Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories
by Sweetwaterspice
Summary: "The art of seduction is knowing what she really wants and giving it to her in a way that takes her breath away." (Anonymous) These are oneshots of Maxon and America full of passion, romance and very naughty bits in between. Rated (M) for adult content.
1. The Invitation

**Author's Notes:** **Many of you asked for more Maxon and America (M) rated stories.**

 **I'm happy to introduce this Series: "Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories"**

 **Thank you to Guest Reviewer who was holding out hope for OneShots. Well, you've inspired me.**

 **Reader's Guidelines to Suggested Topics and Special Requests** **posted below.**

 ** _WARNING!_** **This chapter contains graphic sexual content and adult language. If this sort of content offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

 ** _~Sweetwaterspice_**

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 ** _"The Invitation"_**

 **~The art of seduction is knowing what she really wants and giving it to her in a way that takes her breath away. ~ Anonymous**

"Maxon?"

I look up at the sound of America's voice. I sit behind a desk full of paperwork after another day of meetings with my advisors.

"Darling," I smile as she steps into my office. I'd do anything to get away from this taxing chore.

"Are you busy?"

"Never for you," I greet as she reaches my desk and leans down to give me a kiss.

She takes a quick survey of my desk, noticing the array of paperwork spread across the surface. "It looks like you are up to your neck in paperwork," she sighs. "I could come back later."

"Nonsense," I rebuff. "There's nothing on my desk that can't wait." I smile up at her as my back rests against the chair.

"Are you certain? I don't want to interfere with your work."

"It's quite alright, darling. I needed to take a break anyway."

She smiles. "I promise, I won't take up much of your time." She's holding a folder against her chest.

"Alright. But I don't mind, really. I welcome the distraction."

"And that is exactly what I don't want to be!" She taps my nose making me chuckle.

She places the folder in front of me, her body leaning over slightly. "I just got the samples back for the invitations Marlee and I have been working on for the Autumn Gala," she says as she opens the folder, arranging each invitation side by side. "I want your opinion. This one," she points to the one on my left, "with the gold leaf against the dark background or, this one," she points to the one on my right, "with the glittery gold background?"

"What are you wearing?" I ask, as my nose hovers over her neck.

"Will you stop and pay attention?" she eyes me, biting back a smile.

"I love it. You smell nice."

"Maxon!"

"Alright, alright, darling. Now let me see." I look down at the samples in front of me, making a real effort to keep focused. I really could care less about these things but America valued my opinion so I try to give her an honest estimation.

I shrug. "I think they're both nice."

"You're not helping!" she whines a little. "I have to make a decision today so we can get them ordered."

"I'm sorry, darling. You know I'm horrible at these things. Whichever one you like, that's the one I choose."

"Maxon…really?" she cocks a brow.

"It's just an invitation, darling. Whatever you choose I'm sure everyone will love. You have excellent taste. You chose me, didn't you?"

Her lips spread into a smile. "You were my best choice I'll give you that."

"You were my only choice," I say smoothly.

"You sweet talker." I smile broadly as she presses her lips against mine. "Well…gotta run," she says, closing the folder and as she goes to pick it up I grab hold of her wrist.

"No need to rush off."

"You've got work to do and I've got work to do. And since you were so helpful…"

"I was helpful!" I smile, turning in my chair to face her. "I narrowed down your choice to 50/50."

She laughs, tapping my head with the folder. "Oh…yeah…super helpful, Your Majesty."

My hands are fixed on her waist. "Is this a new dress?"

"Yes. You know Mary. Always making me something new. She'd die if I wore the same thing twice!"

"I like it," I smile as my hand slips under the knee-length dress.

She swats my hand away. "Maxon!"

"What?!"

"Will you stop?"

"Come on, darling. I'm just checking things out." Both of my hands are now gliding up her thighs.

She slaps my hands under the material of her dress as she scolds me. "Someone could walk in!"

"Don't worry." I'm holding on to her hips under her dress. "I'm not expecting anyone for the rest of the afternoon. No meetings. No interruptions."

"You're not going to get your way."

"What color panties are you wearing?"

"Maxon!" she's blushing furiously. "Keep your voice down. There's a guard at the door if you've forgotten," she whispers.

"He can't hear what I'm saying," I reply nonchalantly in a lower tone. My hands are cupping her bottom, and my fingers begin tracing the outline of the material over the hills of her ass. "Let me guess? Cheeky panties…sexy."

"This is so inappropriate," she says but doesn't stop me.

I bunch the material of her dress in one hand, lifting it up over her bottom. Leaning over to take a look, I let out a slow whistle. "Blue…my favorite color. Your ass looks so damn sexy."

"We do have a bedroom, you know," she says as I squeeze her ass, not able to tear my eyes away.

"Who needs a bed? I don't need a bed." I softly bite into the rounded mound of her left cheek.

America gasps. "Maxon…we can't! Not here."

"We almost did a couple of months back, remember?" referring to our make-up, make-out session on the couch.

"That was…different," she counters.

"Let me see the front."

I push my chair back a bit. "Hold your dress up for me, darling."

"Maxon…" she starts as I wrap the material of her dress into her free hand. "We really…"

"Damn…that's sexy," I interrupt. My breathing is getting heavier. I trace the lacey outline around her pelvis with my index finger, then slide it under the edge around her hip bone, tracing it down to her inner thigh and I brush my thumb over her sensitive bundle. I look up as America bites down on her lower lip. I can feel moisture already seeping through as I rub my thumb over her clit.

"Oh my God…" she breathes. Her eyes are closed.

"Would you like me to stop?" I ask wickedly, my thumb moving about in gentle circles.

"I…I…don't…know…"

"I'll take that as a no."

I hold on to her hips, turn her to lean against my desk. I part her legs and immediately start covering her inner thighs in feathered kisses. I hear the folder drop to the floor once my mouth couples her aching pussy through the lacey material.

I hear her moan as her fingers dive into my hair, holding the back of my head. Pushing aside the lacey material from her vagina I begin to lick, painfully slow up and down her entrance, twirling my tongue around her sensitive clit. Her head drops back. "Ohhh…yes…right there," she moans as my tongue delves inside her heated depth. I pull back and suck the inside of her thigh then the other.

"Take it off," I tell her as she eases to stand without protest and I peel her panties from her body. She steps out of them and pushing my paperwork aside, I guide her to sit on my desk. I roll my chair closer, slipping my forearms under her knees I reach for her bottom pulling her to the edge of my desk. She's leaning back on her elbows, her pussy angled towards my mouth. I lower my head between her thighs and my tongue begins to glide pleasurably over her. Her moans quiver as I take my time with her, savoring all of her. She's so sweet, I repeat the process several times. I lick my middle finger and slip it inside and get a wonderful reaction. Her fingers tighten around my hair once I stroke that special place inside that drives her insane. I tease her clit with my tongue as my finger continues pleasuring her and then draw it between my lips sucking on it softly. "So beautiful," I whisper, looking at her clit and proceed brushing her peak against my tongue. She whimpers, and bites down on a couple of fingers on her hand to keep herself from crying out.

"Maaa-xon…" she strains to call my name and I love the look on her face…so sexually erotic. I withdraw my finger and suck it off.

"Mmmm…so tasty," I whisper as I stand slowly, my lips softly kissing her neck. I know exactly how to melt her. And I know she won't resist. I kiss around her ear, down the sensitive area between her ear and neck as her head falls to one side. I lick the same area back up to her ear, wrapping her lobe between my lips. She sighs. "I want you," I tell her huskily as I undo the belt of my pants.

America turns her head, coupling her mouth with mine. She backs her mouth away just a hint but our tongues continue to play. "You drive me crazy," she says as I rub the head of my dick against her very wet pussy.

"I know. And you love it."

"I do…" She groans softly as I push into her.

"Hold your dress up, darling," I instruct, pushing the material up from blocking my view up to her waist. I look down between us as I see myself disappear inch by inch into her. "Fuck…" I utter under my breath. "You're so hot…damn it."

I move into her with long, deliberate strokes, pulling back to my sensitive tip and sinking hard on return. She's loving this movement telling me to keep it up, that she wants to feel all of my dick inside. I love her dirty talk during sex. It makes my balls rumble. As I continue to plow into her, I'm thankful that the desk is pretty damn sturdy and heavy so it's not scraping against the floor but I'm ever more elated that I'm living a fantasy. How many times had I fantasized of fucking America in my office on my desk? Too many to keep count. And it's everything I had hoped for! She's moaning as I take her, my cock rubbing steady against her slick walls. I'm so damn excited I remind myself to control my pace. I slow it down a bit allowing myself to relish this experience.

"Fuck me from behind," she tells me. My ears are on fire and of course, I'm more than happy to oblige.

I bend her over my desk and that gorgeous ass is staring back at me. I resist the urge to slap it. I bend my knees to position myself and slowly enter her. "Oh…that feels so good," she sighs as I begin to stroke her heated walls. My eyes are glued to the action below and I love the way her pussy swallows me and how her second lips wrap around me, moving along with every stroke I give her.

I moan and groan with each move and my head falls back as I enjoy nothing but exquisite pleasure. My hands squeeze her hips as America's stands against me, her back curves like a bow as she turns her face towards mine and reaches behind her for the back of my head, bringing me to her mouth. I moan into her kiss which just takes my breath!

"I love you," I say against her mouth. She kisses me, deeper.

My lips are on her neck…and I bite down softly on the area between her neck and shoulder, loving the sound that escapes her.

"Do you love me inside you?" I ask in her ear, giving her every inch of me.

"I looove you inside me," she breathes against my cheek. "So deep."

I gentle her body back down on my desk. My hands are flat on the surface, my body draping over hers. "You're a very naughty girl, Mrs. Schreave," I tell her in her ear. "Taking advantage of me like this."

She laughs. "All in a day's work…Mr. Schreave."

I feel a sudden rumbling in my balls and my speed increases. I stand, holding unto America's waist and my hips begin to slap thunderously against her bottom. I hear her moaning and groaning and it turns me on. The glass of water on my desk catches my attention as the water sloshes around to the rhythm of my vigorous strokes.

"Oh God Maxon!" America whisper-cries. She's propped herself up on her palms, absorbing the power of my body as I push us both to climax. "Ahhhh…fuck!" she cries softly, "I'm cumming!" And as I hear those words, her walls begin to ripple around me. I grunt repeatedly, my hips slapping hard against her as my climax rips through me and spills deep into her well.

"Ohh baby…" I'm breathing hard, my lips kissing the side of her head, ear and jaw. Her hand rests softly against my cheek. "You're incredible. Just incredible."

"And you're a devil." I feel her smile and turn my head to kiss her palm.

"Yes…yes I am."

We kiss softly, and with a little tongue at my request.

"Now back to work," she's smiling.

"I'll walk you back downstairs."

We get dressed and head out of my office.

The guard at the door bows to America first as she passes and as I meet his eyes he shoots me a smile and I reply…

with a wink.

Apparently, I underestimated the thickness of the walls.

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed!**

 **Post your thoughts, a review, PM, fave or follow!**

 **About Updates** **: I have no timeline in mind to update this but I still encourage you readers to leave a review so I know people are liking this series. Otherwise, updates will be very slow in coming since this is not on the top of my list of writing projects. So please, review.**

 **Thanks for reading and stay tuned for another sizzling oneshot!**

* * *

 **Reader's Guidelines to Suggested Topics and Special Requests**

If you are interested in submitting your idea for a oneshot story in the _ **"Bedtime Stories"** _ series, please follow these simple guidelines:

1\. Must ship Maxerica.

2\. No kinky business - BDSM, bondage, toys, anal and crazy fetishes.

3\. Definitely no slash, threesomes and the like.

4\. Stories can be sensual in nature without actual sex. But since this is (M) rated, sex is a very high possibility!

5\. Be realistic in content.

If you have an idea post it on the _ **"Bedtime Stories"** _ review board. You can also PM me. I will give consideration to each request but I do not promise a story will be published.

Have fun readers! Here is your opportunity to give your idea life!

 _ **~ Sweetwaterspice**_


	2. Broken Rules

**Author's Notes:** **This was a suggested story scenario.**

 **Written For:** **Guest Reviewer who asked for a little dominance Bedtime Story.**

 **Nothing too OOC here readers so don't worry!**

 ** _WARNING!_** **This chapter contains graphic sexual content and adult language. If this sort of content offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

 ** _~Sweetwaterspice_**

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 ** _"Broken Rules"_**

 **"When I'm good, I'm very good, but when I'm bad, I'm better." ~ Mae West**

 ** _~ America_**

"Maaaxon!" I call from inside the bathroom. "I'm waiting for you!" I sing, the smile on my face not hiding the anticipation growing in the pit of my stomach.

I let the warm water soothe me as I lie back in the tub, humming. I could clearly see Maxon's naked form in my mind's eye. Every ripple of his abdomen, the defined contour of his strong thighs, the chiseled cut of his pelvis that drove me mad and that wonderful dick that so wickedly invades my thoughts at this very moment.

The scent of orange blossoms fills the air. I was glad to have received the gift from Lucas - reminiscent of our honeymoon. I couldn't believe six months had already passed; six months since I had become Mrs. Schreave and six months since I began sitting as Queen.

"Maxon, honey, are you coming?" I call again, rubbing a small amount of the potion on my skin. I love how smooth it makes my skin feel but especially I love how much more sensitive to Maxon's touch it makes me. His hands on my slippery body make me feel so much more alive.

I lift a leg from under the tub full of bubbles, running my hands from my ankles to my lower thigh, smearing the oil on my extremity. It gave my shapely leg a nice, warm glow.

I was feeling rather naughty and planned a relaxing, long bath with my stud of a husband. Lit candles and champagne added to the mood, making me feel rather sexy. After smoothing my body with Lucas' magic potion, I pour myself a glass of champagne, cursing under my breath as the fine stemware almost slips from between my fingers. I fill my glass, mesmerized at the foam of bubbles and poured Maxon some as well. I sit back in the heated pool of water, content and bring the glass to my lips. I sip the champagne slowly and I feel rather girly, giggling as the bubbles tickle my nose.

After the first glass, I keep staring at its companion; the glass flute sitting at the other end of the tub, is still full. I watch the tiny sparkling bubbles rise to the top only to disappear into the thin air. I sigh.

"Maxon! What is taking you so long?!"

"I'm coming, darling! Give me one more minute," I heard him say from the bedroom.

"Okay...one minute!"

One minute turned into five, then ten...fifteen. I had reached the limit of my patience and the bottom of a second glass of bubbly! What the hell was he doing?

I drummed my fingers impatiently on the edge of the porcelain tub. Still, no Maxon.

That was it!

Not only was I perturbed to have been kept waiting but rudely so, to boot!

I rise from beneath the water, now a few degrees cooler than at the start and it wasn't the only thing that had cooled off! The air hits my naked body reminding me that this was not the sensation I was hoping to be enveloped in at this very moment.

I step out of the tub unto the mat. The looped, cotton threads soak the moisture from the bottoms of my feet. I snatch my towel off the towel bar wrapping it around my torso. I fasten it in front before leaving my major fail of a romantic setting behind. I am not a happy America.

I swing open the door leading to our bedroom.

"Maxon Calix Schreave!" I'm standing in the doorway, arms crossed over my chest, draped in nothing but a towel, my hair pinned up in a bundled mess. The expression on Maxon's countenance tells me he knows he's looking at a face that screams absolute disapproval.

"Sorry...darling?"

"You are _working_?!" He sits on his side of our bed next to an opened folder that seems to have exploded unto my side.

I walk furiously towards him, clutching the towel in front with my hand. "You had me waiting because you are...working?!" I look incredulously at the paper mess.

"I'm sorry, darling," he says, looking guiltily at the paperwork laid out across our bed. "I only needed to finalize a few minor things..."

"Maxon, you know the rule. No work allowed pass that door!" I frown, pointing to our bedroom door.

"I know," he sighs, collecting the sheets of paper off the bed. "I didn't think it would take this long."

His apology does nothing to ease the deep crinkle in my brow. He notices I'm unsatisfied.

"I'll make it up to you, okay? Let me run another bath..."

I don't let him finish. "You're damn right you're going to make it up to me." Being sexually frustrated at the moment, I don't care about the bath.

"I can see you're a little upset."

"Oh, really?"

"I could...give you a massage just the way you like me..." He goes to stand and with both hands I push him back down on the mattress.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere?" He eyes me questioningly.

"You have broken a very serious rule," I state, wrapping the long end his loosened tie around my hand. "I expect," I yank on it and Maxon's eye widen like saucers, "full, hard compensation."

"America..."

I yank harder this time. "Don't America, me." I twist the tie around my small hand once more. I nudge Maxon's chin up with my balled fist to look at me. "You kept your Queen waiting and have desecrated my sanctuary. I will have to remind you exactly what this bed is reserved for."

I lean down and kiss him hard. It's so intense he can't help but respond as his tongue meets mine.

"Shit," he mutters, breathless.

"Now...take off your shirt," I command, letting go of his tie. "I want to see that gorgeous body of yours." Maxon is staring at me in shock but he complies, undoing his loose tie and slips it off. He balls it up and tosses it behind me then begins to undo the buttons on his dress shirt.

"Not so fast," I voice as I take a seat on the edge of the bed, securing the towel tighter between my bosom. "Slowly. I want to enjoy this."

I scoot closer, watching his fingers work each button, uncovering the skin of his beautiful, hard chest. There is an unmistakable ache between my legs and I feel the heat of sexual need storming inside of me, my clit very much alert. He shrugs the material from his shoulders. "Yes," I whisper, "take it off...just life that." I absentmindedly find myself helping him along.

I softly rake my fingernails from his neck down the middle of his chest just above his navel. And make my way back up to the defined pectoral muscle of his chest. I press my lips softly into his neck.

I hear him inhale the scent of me and says, "Damn, you smell so good."

His hand comes to rest on the back of my head but I push it down quickly. My eyes meet his. "No touching," I tell him, shaking my head slowly. "Your Queen will let you know when she wants to be touched. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. Now...where was I? Oh, yes...right here," I coo, leaning into Maxon's neck again, my mouth softly sucking on the tender flesh. He lifts his head as I move over his throat and gasps as I draw on his flesh, careful not to leave any marks.

I make my way to tease his earlobe with my tongue and as my body presses into him, I can feel his breathing is fully labored. _'Good'_ , I think. He will do exactly as I say.

I pull back to see his eyes are fired. He can barely stand not being able to touch me. I want to torture him to madness. "Let me taste those sugary lips." I lean in ever so slow, he begins to reach for me again and knocking his hand down, "No," I scold. He wears a hint of a frown. I suppress the smile threatening to surface. He's adorable. I mirror his frown. I can't lose control. "Lips. No hands." I lean closer, our breaths, mixing. "Kiss me," I brush over his mouth. Maxon leans his head forward to meet my lips and he growls. The kiss makes my head spin, dulling my senses. He is a bit more aggressive. He's never known restrictions and I know he hates it. I, on the other hand, love the effect it has on him. Makes him a little less tame.

I push him back, breaking one of the most wonderful kisses he's ever given me. I don't allow my excitement to show too much. It would be a dead giveaway that I'm losing my grip on things.

"Lie down." He does. I grab hold of his belt, quickly unfastening it. I kiss his chest and stomach as I undo the button and zipper. His abdomen contracts and I hear him groan.

I run a hand over his obvious erection and suck in a breath. I look into Maxon's pained eyes, full of need. I rub up and down his stiff manhood. He feels so good against my palm; I squeeze, he groans. "Instead of a pen my King, this is the only tool you are allowed to use on this bed. Let me see it. I need to make sure it is in good, working order."

I help to shed his pants, then as he raises his hips to strip from his black boxers, that wonderful appendage, fully engorged makes its glorious appearance.

"Mmmm...seems to be in perfect condition." I let my hair down and it falls about my shoulders. I take a hold of his hard penis in my warm hand stroking it slowly several times and dip my hand further south to caress his balls. "Now do you remember?" I ask, licking the top of his head with my tongue, my eyes trained on his.

"Yes, darling...," his voice strains, "I do."

"I don't think you do. Let me remind you again what your Queen demands when you share her bed." I secure his gorgeous erection in one hand and take him in...deep, my other hand is full with the pockets of his orbs.

"Oh, fuck...America."

Listening to Maxon as I suck his dick turns me on full blast! I think he knows how much I love sucking his cock - the fact that he's never denied me told me that a long time ago. And as many times as I've given him head these past six months, I can't say I've had my fill.

I know how much he loves his hands in my hair when I give him a blowjob, so I tell him he can touch me now. He wastes not one more second before both hands are sunk deep in my hair. I pleasure him with long, lengthy drags, short ones just bobbing the rigid head, full on tongue up and down his shaft and some ball action too.

"Now...fuck me." I undo my towel in a flash, bearing my naked body to his lustful eyes.

"As you wish, my Queen. How would you like it?"

I position myself on the bed. On hands and knees. "I'm so wet," I shamelessly tell him, feeling my desire running down my inner thigh. "Come here." I call, looking over my shoulder. I reach back once he's close enough taking a hold of his member. "Put that wonderful dick right here," I tell him as I begin to rub the head of his penis over me. "You like that?"

"Very much...," he breathes. Then adds, "That looks so damn good, baby." Maxon's strong hands take hold of my waist.

"I want to feel you inside. Slowly."

"As you wish, baby." It drives me crazy when he calls me baby during sex.

Maxon begins to penetrate me and my head falls between my arms. I'm moaning with every inch he slips into me. "Just like that, yes...give me every inch." Once I feel his pelvis flush against my bottom, I reach behind to grab hold of the right side of his naked ass. "Hold it there. Let me feel how good you fill me up." I close my eyes to enjoy how full of Maxon I am right now. My clit responds furiously, jumping in excitement. It's so close to an orgasm my head falls backwards as I bite down hard on my lower lip.

After a good fifteen seconds I look at Maxon, "Show your Queen how you use that magnificent tool of yours. I want it fast and I want it hard...very hard."

"Anyway you want it, baby," he tells me, his large hands rubbing my back. The warmth of his touch makes me hotter.

Maxon's hands hook around my shoulders as his hips immediately begin to thrust against my bottom. I absorb the full force of his power, moaning and groaning as he fucks me the way I want. Damn, I'm a very lucky girl!

I express my unadulterated delight in words, "You feel sooo _good!_ " and various sexual cries. Maxon holds on to my hips working his magic and pushes me into an absolute state of euphoria. He sits back on his legs and allows me to pleasure myself as I bounce up and over his magic rod which hits the deepest areas of my womanhood and I feel the sudden burst of several cosmic explosions within me.

My body is ramming hard against Maxon who is now holding on to my breasts, my hands over his on my breasts which sets me off again and I hear Maxon cry out telling me he's about to join me.

"Not like this. I want your body on mine." He knows what I want, how I want to be fucked, and as we move as one entity, me on my stomach with Maxon on top, he arches my bottom up, resuming those deep, unforgiving thrusts I clamor for.

He drapes his body over mine, kissing my neck, shoulders, ear and he's telling me how fucking sexy I've been tonight and how hard he's going to cum...and never thinking it a possibility there are bombshells going off inside of me, my walls hit by a sudden sequence of tremors one after the other. I'm gripping the sheets tight in my fingers as Maxon too voices his climax in my ear as he coats my walls with his royal seed.

We lie spent in sweat, fully in love, fully satiated...our bed, now reclaimed.

"Did I succeed in making amends?" he asks, in my ear.

"I suppose for now, you did." We kiss sweetly.

Moving from our position, I settle, my back pressed against his chest and he's kissing my neck. "I have to say, my Queen, I loved breaking that rule."

"Is that so? Well, be careful what you ask for, my King," I warn. "It may not go so well for you if there is a _next time_ , which I certainly hope there isn't."

"I like you taking control. That was damn sexy."

I smile. "I could tell you liked that, you bad boy. Fortunately for you, that's the one and only rule I am imposing on you."

He chuckles. "Now that's a fib if I ever heard one."

"A fib?!" I turn in his arms to face him. "Whatever do you mean?"

"That is not your only rule."

"It is."

"Nope. Want to bet?"

I prop on an elbow and eye him carefully. Shake my head. "I don't think so. You seem pretty self-assured."

"Be a sport, America. Afraid you'll lose? It's alright, I get it."

"What's in it for you if you happen to win?"

"Oh...I don't know. Maybe..." he grins, running his fingers down my arm, "I get something I've been wanting to do for quite some time."

"And what is that?"

He whispers his wish in my ear.

"Really?" I bite down softly on the nail of my index finger. I smile. "Okay. You're on!" I poke his chest. "Now, tell me."

"Your other rule, my _dear..."_

I gasp instantaneously. My mouth falls open. How could I have forgotten I told him never to call me his dear?!

My rule had been turned into a bet I had just lost!

"Now, my dear...let's talk about the terms of payment."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **If you suggested this story, please let me know what you thought of it. This was especially written for you! I'm sure the rest of the fandom is also thankful!**

 **Readers, post your thoughts, a review, PM, fave or follow!**

 **I want to thank everyone who posted a review and for letting your voices be heard!**

 **About Updates** **: As I've stated on the review board, I will only update this once a month. There are many wonderful suggestions for stories and I want to dedicate good time to writing it for you. If your story is selected, I will let you know but please remember, it may be a little while before a story is published. But, please keep those reviews coming! They inspire me to write, write, write!**

 **If you have a suggestion or special request, please post it here or you can always PM me.**

 **If you are interested in submitting a request, p** **lease read _" Guidelines for Special Requests"_ in the Author's Notes in Chapter 1 of _"Bedtime Stories"_  
**

 **Another Bedtime Story is on its way!**

 **Stay tuned!**


	3. Midnight Patrol

**Author's Notes:** **  
**

**When Maxon and America lose themselves in the throes of passion, they're caught in the act by the one person who had almost torn them apart.**

 **Written For: Erin, who suggested this story scenario. ****Takes place during "The Eye of the Beholder" in Sweet Surrender.**

 **(*) If you see an asterisk, there is an explanation to follow at the end.**

 **A special shout-out to my fan fiction bestie and beta-reader supergirls2008 who is always there to offer the BEST suggestions! How many books have we read together so far? LOL!**

 ** _WARNING!_ This chapter contains graphic sexual content and adult language. If this sort of content offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Midnight Patrol"**_

 **You lost her. And now she lights up the night-time sky for her new lover cause he recognized her as the moon. And you envy him. She could've been your moon, but you were too busy chasing the dimly lit stars.** _ **~ Zienab Handam**_

 ** _~Aspen_**

"So, I hear congratulations are in order?"

I give Avery a sideways glance as I button the jacket of my uniform. We're in our sort-of upgraded quarters. We had moved from our cramped rooms - the ones that housed us as new recruits. With our recent promotions we had now been assigned to the corporal quarters. At the very least now, we didn't feel like two peas in a pod. Duty starts in half an hour and I feel the need to get my feet moving. There's much on my mind and sitting still isn't helping.

"What?" I ask, a crinkle in my brow.

"Come on, Leger. You know news gets around fast about this place. I just can't believe you didn't tell me, you dirty dog."

I stare at Avery. He laughs, giving me a friendly punch to the arm. "You're seriously not going to tell me? Your bud? You, getting hitched and all?!"

"News does get around fast," I reply wryly.

"Hey, we've been roomies for…over 6 months? You'd think you'd give me the heads up that you got engaged."

"I thought you figured it was moving in that direction."

"I figured but…man," he says,scratching his chin, "things change around here at the drop of a hat! You think you know a fella."

I smile. "Come on. You practically know everything about me."

He raises a brow. "So I thought," he smirks and goes to sit on his bunk. "Man…I still can't believe it. First, Markson and now you?!" he gestures, shaking his head. "What the hell…" He lays back on his bunk, arms folded under his head.

I shrug, tugging my jacket flat over my hips. "Figured it was time."

"Time?! For what?!" he shoots up to lean on his elbows. "To get the old ball and chain shackled to your ankle? Hell no, man…" he eases back down on the mattress, resumes his position. "I'm too young for that kind of commitment."

"That's what they all say until you meet the right girl."

"Girl…as in singular?" Avery asks, incredulous. I flinch subconsciously. Because there was one singular girl for me and I had screwed it up, royally. But I wasn't going to get into that with Avery. He sits up again, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "And deprive all the ladies of my unimaginable sexiness? Girls as in plural, as in two or three for me Leger…at one time…you get me? There is too much of me to share. I can't be that selfish!"

"You've got the biggest head…

"Woah, now! Don't go starting rumors, Leger. I don't want people getting the wrong idea about you…and me…you know. This business right here," he waves his hand in a circle over his torso, "strictly for the ladies, man…sorry."

"Shut the hell up."

He chuckles. "So when's the big day?" he asks. "It seems you've been a pretty lucky man. Saving the queen's life, getting promoted…new lady in your life. Looks like you've been playing with a loaded deck."

"Not so lucky." I look down at my leg, but my injury isn't really what I'm thinking of.

"Well, besides that bum leg…you're doing alright."

If he only knew it hadn't been so easy. There were still unresolved issues I was dealing with. Mainly, my feelings for America. The palace staff would never know how deep my relationship with the queen – my once love interest, snuggle buddy and best friend of two years had been. They didn't know the ties that bound us and how deep those ties are…or were.

I hadn't spoken to America in weeks. She'd tried to make conversation but I kept dodging her, throwing on the mask of palace guard whenever she was around. "Can't talk, your Majesty." "Duty calls, your Majesty." "Have a pleasant day, your Majesty." She was Queen of Illéa. She got her king and her palace…and her throne. All the things I could never have given her. What the hell did she want to talk about? The only way I could survive living in the same building as her was to dedicate myself to my job. Being a guard was the one good part of my life, and I picked up shifts whenever I could to keep my mind busy and off of my former girlfriend. Keeping her safe was the only thing I could give her now.

I knew what she wanted to say but I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear her apologies or excuses for why our relationship had become so awkward. I didn't want to hear about her new life without me. I couldn't be just friends with America any more than I could tear off my own arm. And I didn't care what others thought.

"Don't believe in luck." I grin halfheartedly.

"Whether you do or not, my friend," he stands from his cot and makes his way over to me, drapes a heavy arm about my shoulders, "Lady Luck is smiling on your pretty face."

"Far be it for me to complain then."

He takes a second to look at me. Stands back. "Hey, I thought you were off-duty tonight. Thought we could go celebrate your…enslavement, I mean engagement. We still got a bottle of that fine whiskey from Markson's bachelor party."

"Thanks." The wry smirk clearly on my lips. "But Hector asked to switch shifts."

"That guy. Is he still chasing that skirt?"

"Still chasing. Don't know if he'll ever catch her though. Can't blame a man for trying." I chided myself.

"What is it with you all? Why can't you all just enjoy being free? Like me!" He spreads his palms out in grandiose fashion.

"Drink a shot for me, will you?"

"Seriously? You can't get some other sucker…I mean…officer to pawn this gig on?"

Grabbing my rifle I shake my head.

"C'mon, Leger!"

"Night, Avery."

"Just one drink!"

I close the door behind me.

* * *

 ** _~Maxon_**

I needed a change of scenery. My office had become the last place I wished to spend another long night pouring over proposals for the annual budget which included renovating the old staff quarters which were now being used as storage. Instead, I opted for one of the more pleasant parlors on the main floor.

It was a nice room, a bit overly done for my taste but America seemed to like it. Tapestries hung on the wall, a large fireplace sat cold and silent in the middle – more for show than actual usage. I can't remember the last time it saw a fire but it still gave a pleasant, cozy feel to the room. There were two couches with plush pillows and a Persian carpet that covered a large portion of the marbled floor. I hated it. There was a violin perched on a music stand. It made me smile making me look down on the sleeping beauty whose head was resting on my lap.

She had insisted on staying with me to keep me company, hating the fact that she'd otherwise fall asleep without me at her side. I thought briefly of our wedding day and how I never thought I could love America more than I had on that day. It amazes me how deeply I keep falling for her each day. My heart never seems to get full of what it feels for her. And though we have hit our little bumps on the road, those trials have made us stronger…brought us closer.

I set the folder on the small table next to the couch where I sat. I couldn't help but run my fingers through her hair, those beautiful red locks parting between my fingers like silk. It made her stir. Her blue eyes flutter open, meeting the soft smile I wear as I look down at her.

"What time is it?" she yawns, placing the back of her hand to her mouth.

"A little after midnight, I think," I reply, squinting at my watch. "I'm sorry. I woke you."

"It's okay," she smiles, touching the side of my face. She doesn't comprehend the things she does to me. How a simple touch makes my heart flip.

I place my hand over hers and turn to kiss her palm and then take hold of her hand to kiss her knuckles. The sweetest smile spreads over her lips.

"You are stunning, you know that?" I tell her.

"You must be blind, my love."

I laugh. "Blinded with love…for my queen."

"Where do you come up with this stuff, Maxon?" She exhales a lazy breath.

"I speak my heart." I kiss the inside of her wrist.

"And may I ask," she whispers, "what does it say at this late hour?"

"That I'm the luckiest man on the face of this planet to have you here with me."

"You do know all the right things to say, don't you?"

I nod, slipping a hand under her head, the other flat on her back. I pull her up and brush my lips against hers. "Can you curse a man for speaking the truth? You, my darling, are my greatest weakness."

"As in a midnight craving, perhaps? Like chocolate ice cream covered in fudge?"

"You're by far more delectable than that," I reply, huskily. "Much more."

She giggles. Her features soften as her lips pucker against mine. "It's the late hour, your Majesty."

"I…can get my...hands on some...fudge..."

"That won't be necessary. I think you'll do."

No further words follow as I find myself wrapped in her arms, our mouths locked in a gentle, sweeping kiss. Her fingers slide to the back of my head and I press her further into me. As if on instinct, our bodies shift feeling a stirring of desire that she so easily sparks and as we kiss, I feel the flame of her own want. And I'm ready to stoke it fire-hot.

I guide America slowly down on to the couch, pushing most of the pillows to the floor, save one for her head. I settle on top of her, careful not to crush her and my kisses become more urgent, needier.

"Maxon," she gasps, a sharp breath follows. My hand kneads her breast and I bury my head into her cleavage, kissing the soft skin of her ivory mounds.

"What?" I ask, trying to control my increased desperation.

"Go check the halls. Make sure no one's about."

I look up at her with an arched brow. "It's after midnight. No one is up and about. No need to worry." I flash a convincing grin and return my face to where it had been, my tongue licking a small trail from between the top of her hills to the dip of her collarbone. She's silent, soft moans of resignation escape her lips. The distraction is but momentary.

"Maxon…seriously," she protests with a little more urgency. "Go lock the door."

"The doors don't lock, America," I say, layering kisses on her neck and jaw.

"Maxon!" she whisper-cries.

I close my eyes, my head dropping into the crook of her neck. I let out a huffed breath and she giggles. "Okay…I'll go check." I hoist myself off the body I'm aching to devour, my erection tight against my pants. I open the door, take a half step out, look both ways. Silence. Closing the door, I switch off the lights, and return.

"The coast is clear…not a soul in sight," I report, looking down at America laid on the couch, silhouetted by the light of the full moon.

She bites her bottom lip and gestures with her index finger for me to come join her. I can't help the grin on my face as I kick off my shoes. Her arms pull me in as I hover over her, my lips immediately on hers. She moans, my kisses trailing the line of her jaw and down the side of her neck. She raises her chin up, exposing the length of her lovely neck to my kisses as I settle my body over her.

My hand is on her breast again, feeling the fullness of her mound under the palm of my hand. It sends wild shivers through me. There had been a time I yearned to do this very thing but not having the freedom to do so, drove myself to many restless nights. And now, feeling the soft texture of her bosom in my hand hasn't quenched that desire to touch her and I want to do so even more.

I slide my hand from her breast to the side of her body, reaching for the hem of her dress, pushing it up as my hand glides over her thigh. We shift once more, America's bottom raising off the couch as I reach for her panties. We are both flushed, passion drapes her pretty features and my breathing is now a bit heavier, weighed down by my desire for her. I sit back on my thighs, the lacy fabric of America's underwear secured in my fingers as I pull them down, over her thighs, over her knees, ankles…feet. I drop them on the floor.

Her dress is up around her waist, my fingers find her so moist, ready to accept me. My mind is in a fog of ecstasy as I bring my fingers to my mouth, tasting her. "So much tastier than chocolate fudge," I wiggle my brows. She bites on her bottom lip as I move to kneel next to the couch. There's nothing better than the taste of America against my mouth as I begin to savor her offering.

My tongue glides over her field, the soft folds of her pussy parting as I dip inside of her. I moan against her as I slide over to her swollen bundle, drawing it between my lips…sucking. She lets out an uneven cry; one between pleasure and need. I know her so well now. What turns her on, what makes her wild. Her fingers are tied in my hair and she cries a bit louder, apparently lost in her throes – reservation having been lost.

Not before long I'm standing before America. She's undoing my pants and soon they are bunched at my ankles. My boxers follow quickly. I hear my groan of satisfaction as her mouth sheaths me. Her lips drag over my erection and she looks up at me, her wicked tongue teasing the tip of my cock. My fingers tighten in her hair, "More…" I tell her and those sparkling blues smile at me knowing exactly what I want. Groaning, my head falls back as America's cheeks cave around my manhood, one hand slipping under my shirt to my abdomen. Her soft hand drifts upwards and I begin to unbutton my shirt leaving it open in front. I never removed my shirt outside of our bedroom, no matter how unlikely I was to be seen. I corral her hand on my chest with my own, holding her to my heart. My thoughts takes me back to fantasies before we were married – how I had imagined her with me so intimate. I kiss her fingertips, wetting her index finger between my lips and let her hand slide back down my torso.

I pull her up by her elbows, wrapping her in my arms, burying my face in her neck. "I love you." The soft sound of the zipper on her dress as I lower it is a tune I will never tire of hearing. She shrugs her dress off her shoulders, pushes it down over her hips as I quickly discard everything covering my lower half. America is in nothing more than her bra and she is absolutely mesmerizing. Her hands push aside my open shirt, her lips layering kisses on my body.

"Come here." I say, taking her had as I sit on the couch. She straddles me. And sinks over my aching and very hardened manhood. My back arches off the back rest, my body encased in heat, bathed in a sea of ecstasy created just for me. My hands cup her ass, the feel of her fluid motions gliding over me – so slick and so very wet. My body responds with fury…greedily wanting more, needing more. My hands fasten on her hips as I encourage her movements to increase in tempo and force.

"You feel so good…oh God, Maxon!" she sings. Her hands are holding on to the back of the couch as she bounces on me, satisfying a hunger that has yet to be satiated. I press her body to me, stilling her for a moment, my brow already dotted in sweat. Her hand is fixed on the back of my head, her lips and tongue teasing my ear. She makes my entire being surge. She leans back as I kiss her throat, arching her back as my nose finds that perfect spot in her cleavage, my fingers unsnapping her bra with ease. She shrugs it off and pitches it somewhere in the room. My mouth is on her breasts but her bottom hasn't stopped moving against me. I tickle the line of her spine with my fingertips and she lets out a laugh telling me it makes her tingle.

"Good…then I'll do it again."

And once again her laugh resonates and I mischievously tease her again, my teeth holding on to a nipple, my fingers running down her spine to her tailbone.

"God, I'm going to kill you!" she laughs.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!"

America screams and my head snaps toward the sound of a man's voice booming from behind us. I feel the immediate absence of America's body.

Bright lights flicker on.

My eyes fight to adjust to the sudden change of brightness in the room and I shoot a glance as she moves quickly to cover herself from whatever eyes are soon to peer down on us, her lean body seeking shelter behind me.

The recognition of a guard's uniform as he comes to view is a flash of relief for rebels had been known to orchestrate raids at night. But in that hair of a second, my eyes, now focused, see a wide-eyed, open-mouthed Officer Leger standing like a statue anchored in place.

"Leger?!"

"Your Majesty!" Leger cries out in shock, as if his own nightmare has come to life. The sudden change in his demeanor accompanied by the crimson color of his face showed he realized that he had, in fact, barged in on a very private liaison.

I was not happy.

"I beg your forgiveness your Majesties," he apologizes quickly, his eyes falling to the Persian carpet beneath our feet. "I…I didn't realize…it was…you."

I immediately recover America's dress on the floor and hand it to her as I simultaneously use my body as a shield. I don't give a second thought to cover myself but the need to protect her is foremost in my mind. I feel her shifting behind me, as she tucks the dress about her bare torso.

"Well…now you do." I shift a bit to shield America even more. I feel her tucking behind me, knees pressed against my lower back and the side of her cheek set against the back of my head. Her grip on my shirt tightens.

The moment seems to stretch, unforgiving, in the silence that has suddenly filled the room. Leger is frozen, his eyes, downcast.

"Is there something I can do for you Officer Leger? Or are you planning on standing there all night?" I glare up at him and I feel a growing sense of satisfaction warm me inside. I wonder if there's a hint of jealousy pricking at him right now.

"No…of course not…Your Majesty…I," he stammers, his eyes quickly meet mine and fall away. "I…apologize for the intrusion." With a quick bow of his head he turns to leave.

"And turn off the damn lights!"

Darkness.

When the door clicks shut, America lets out a groan and buries her head in my shoulder.

"What the fuck…?" I chuckle.

"That was horrible!" She groans miserably before gasping, "Do you think he saw me naked?"

"You?!" I peer over my shoulder at her. "At least you had someplace to hide." I can't help the laugh that jets out of me.

A strange gurgling laugh escapes her. "That's the last time I trust you to check the halls, Mr. No One is Around." She playfully bites my ear. Her arms wrap tight around my shoulders. "This is exactly why we have a bedroom! No more sneaking around the palace!"

"And miss out on all of this excitement? The thrill of getting caught in the act?"

"You are just impossible! What am I to do with you?" Her nose grazes my jaw.

"I can think of a few things."

"I'm sure."

"Well..." I begin with a whisper, "since we were so rudely interrupted by the midnight patrol, how about…we finish what you started?" I bring an arm around over her head. I rotate my body towards hers in a slight angle. My fingers slip into the mess of red hair along the base of her head. My fingers massage her gently and her neck goes loose.

"What _I_ started?!" she moans. "Are you certain?" she reaches for my manhood, my erection not so impressive at the moment. "You don't feel like you're quite _up_ for the task," she teases, cocking a brow at me.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe…"

I give her a crooked smile and pull her head to me. I graze my lips over hers, tracing her jaw to her ear and I whisper, "I bet you I can have you screaming in less than four minutes."

"Oh, yeah?"

I nod, and against her lips I counter, "Make that three."

* * *

 _ **~ Aspen**_

I make my way down to * _The Hole_ \- the former wine cellar that had found renewed life thanks to the guards and palace staff that gathered here to relax after a day's hard labor. The room is a buzz of activity as it always is even in the late hour of night.

"Hey! You made it!" Avery hollers at me as he waves me over to the table where he's sitting with two others. I had managed to cut my shift short as Loge took the remainder.

He grabs a clean shot glass as congratulations on my engagement greet me from my fellow officers. I take a seat, my temples steadily pounding inside my head, images of my America wrapped around him burned devastatingly behind my eyes. I watch as the liquor quickly fills the small glass and just as fast as he had poured it, the liquid slides over my tongue, burning in the back of my throat. My eyes instinctively squeeze shut, letting the alcohol take its desired effect. I needed to forget everything - my misery, my jealousy…the magnificent nakedness I had just witnessed but would never have as my own. I gesture for Avery to pour another. I tip it back with one gulp hoping it would dull the images in my head.

"Hey, take it easy there, buddy. This stuff is no joke. 99% proof. Will have you flat on your back in no time."

"Yep, that's the idea." I hold the shot glass between my fingers. "Pour."

Avery does, eyeing me curiously. "Here's to happily ever after," he toasts.

I hold my drink up to my companions and the clink of glass follows as their voices chime in...

"Hear, hear!"

I pause for a moment, take the shot and slam it down, motioning for another.

It's time to forget how close I was to mine.

* * *

 **Thanks a million for reading!**

 **Erin - Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Kisses to all of you that have reviewed and shared your voices, PM'd, followed or flagged this as a favorite.**

 **Readers, don't forget to post your thoughts, a review, PM, fave or follow!**

 *** _The Hole_ \- This is my made-up hang out spot primarily for the guards but is frequented by the maids and other staff of the palace. It will be featured more in my story "A Gilded Cage Just for Me".**

 **OCTOBER CHALLENGE! In case you have not seen this challenge, I am looking for some suggestions on a costume or Halloween story line! If you have a suggestion please post it here or you can always PM me.  
**

 **If you are interested in submitting a request, p** **lease read _" Guidelines for Special Requests"_ in the Author's Notes in Chapter 1 of _"Bedtime Stories"_  
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 **Check back in September for the next sizzling tale!**


	4. After Dinner Delight

**Author's Notes:** **  
**

**Maxon and America host their first State dinner party, but America devices a plan to make it a most unforgettable evening.**

 **Written For: Guests, who suggested elements in this story scenario which I combined.**

 **A special shout-out to my fan fiction bestie and beta-reader supergirls2008 who is attempting to convert me into a Will Herondale and James Carstairs fan. _Saaay what?!_**

 ** _WARNING!_ This chapter contains graphic sexual content and adult language. If this sort of content offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"After Dinner Delight"**_

 _ **"Don't tug your ear with anyone else. That's mine."**_

 _ **~ America**_

"Come in, My Royal Husbandness," I tease Maxon as he stands at the doorway. He looks handsome as always in a nicely fitted navy blue suit, white dress shirt and blue-gray tie. I must thank Harrison for making sure my husband looks just as good dressed in clothes as he does without them.

"What sort of mischievous deeds are you two cooking up now?" Maxon asks as he enters the Women's Room, cocking a brow at both Marlee and me.

Marlee is immediately on her feet giving Maxon a curtsy. Pressing a delicate hand to her chest once she's risen to stand fully, she flutters her lashes, "Why your Majesty. Whatever would give you the impression that your lovely wife and her best friend would be " _cooking up_ " anything?"

"Oh…I don't know," Maxon shrugs, stuffing both hands inside his pockets. "Let me guess." He raises his eyes upwards. "Who will you try to get the Prince of Italy engaged to…this time?" He is looking at us now. "Or perhaps I'm a little weary after the stunt you two pulled on the Ambassador from New Asia knowing quite well her uhhh…lowered inhibitions to alcoholic beverages."

"That was America's idea." She points at me.

"Marlee!" I gasp, sitting up in my chair as if a bolt of lightning had just struck me.

"It was only a few…piña coladas." Marlee winces, remembering the incident leading the Ambassador to share with half our guests the birth mark she claimed proved her family was a distant relation to the Imperial throne. "I mean…how were we supposed to know a few fruity drinks would go to her head like that? They do drink sake in New Asia don't they?"

Maxon tosses her a scowl. "Or maybe this might trigger a memory. The time you two convinced the wife of the Prime Minister from England that her room was _haunted_ by rebel ghosts!"

"Ohhh…Well, she deserved it!" Marlee tried to hide a snicker. "She was a bitch!"

"Marlee!" I try to squash the laugh ready to erupt from inside my belly. Maxon is not amused.

He glares at Marlee and then shoots me the same warning stare. I bite my lower lip. I should feel guilty but I can't really say I am. Maxon paces a few steps. "So, my dear wife and best friend, you can see why I'm a little nervous seeing this little "meeting of the minds" at the present moment and even more so with our guests arriving in less than four hours."

I get up from my seat and walk over to Maxon placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. "We promise. We're not plotting the next invasion of Swendway, okay?" I tease, slipping an arm between his. I wrap my hand around his bicep feeling the defined muscle underneath his suit coat. My mind wanders to the sweet kisses I laid on this very bicep this morning. Maxon's voice snaps me back from the images of my barely clad husband as I enjoyed him so deliciously for breakfast.

"I wonder…" Maxon replies wryly as his eyes catch my hand squeezing the defined muscle of his bicep. He blushes. His workout routine with the guards continues to pay marvelous dividends.

"We will be on our best behavior. I know how important this state dinner is to us…to Illéa…to you." I give him a sweet, gentle smile. As much as he teases, I know he trusts me not to play games with Marlee when it isn't appropriate, afterall, I am Queen. Placing a hand on his cheek I lean in to kiss those savory lips. He responds, pulling me to him. I feel the tension in his muscles release as his face softens, accepting my kiss and the world dissolves and it's just us. And our kiss slowly deepens.

"Ahhh…excuse me! Best friend still in the room!"

We break our kiss and both turn to look at Marlee who is blushing. After all of our girl talks, it seems she still gets embarrassed at our display of affection.

"Ugh…I have to remember to make my exits much quicker when you two are together," she says with an air of mock disgust as she shakes her head. She leans and fetches her magazine off the end table. "You two are just sickening."

I laugh. It's true. Whenever Maxon and I happen to be in the same room we can barely keep our hands off each other or lips as a matter of fact.

"Don't forget to come over to my room so I can see your dress!"

"I won't forget, trust me." She gives a flashing smile.

Marlee walks to the door and as soon as Maxon faces away from her she tugs on her ear, smiling wickedly at me. I flash her a _"knock it off"_ look. Maxon catches it as the door closes.

"I saw that!"

"What?"

"That look!" He points an accusing finger at my face.

"What look?!" My voice sells me out. Guilty.

"That look you just gave Marlee. That look," his eyes narrow, "that tells me you two are up to something."

"You're imagining things."

"You're imagining things," Maxon mocks me, imitating my voice.

"Oh shut up." I slap his arm as I turn to my chair. I pick up the book I had been reading before Marlee joined me.

"America Schreave…what is…"

I'm back in his arms in a blink. "I promise, my love," I silence him with another kiss. "There is nothing for you to be concerned about. As a matter of fact, I can't wait to get my hands on you later tonight."

The corner of his mouth quirks. He's so adorable when I embarrass him like that.

"And why, pray-tell, do I have to wait until tonight?" His voice is husky. It warms me.

"Because…I'm already delayed. And Mary will be waiting for me."

"Mary can wait…" he smiles, his eyes clouded over with expectation. Maxon leans into my neck, kissing me tenderly.

"No, she can't, Maxon ," I giggle as he teases my earlobe. I'm beginning to unravel. Maxon's hands begin to slide down to my bottom. His hands are full of my ass.

"Are you sure? I can…make it quite worth your while."

With such daring affirmation he's ignited a blazing fire in my core.

He's kissing my jaw, his hands are on my back, cradling me against him. I wrap my arms around him. His aura is powerful indeed that I begin to lose myself in it.

There's a little voice in my head and red-flag warnings flicker behind my closed lids.

"Really, Maxon," I gasp for air, a kiss away from giving in. "We just did it this morning."

He looks at me with that devilish air and brown eyes that reach far into the depths of every part of me. I feel that telling shiver run down my spine to the very tips of my toes. I am pleasurably frozen. "Even better reason to do it now. We'll be too tired later."

I'm a ragdoll. Every limb of my body has turned into sets of lifeless joints, muscles and bones. I inhale a shaky breath as my book, with a thud, hits the floor. In my hazy brain I think, _Marlee will forgive me_.

"Oh! Pardon, Your Majesties," Paige cries as she enters the room. She gives a hasty curtsy and I can't be thankful enough for her timely intrusion. I really must device better strategic measures to fend off my husband's apparent talent to get me out of my clothes.

She apologizes again, her eye catching the book at Maxon's feet. Awkwardly, she picks it up, "Your book, my lady?" she questions, her cheeks tinged with red once our eyes meet. Even after all of this time, Paige hasn't gotten used to seeing me so intimate with the King.

"I'm sorry…to interrupt," she states a third time, handing me the book, "but Miss Mary is near a panic regarding your dress for tonight's dinner, my lady. She is insistent you come upstairs at once to have a fitting."

Maxon groans. "Now?!"

Paige's face flashes with uneasiness at Maxon's clearly disapproving tone. I try to ease her worry. "It's alright. Tell Mary I'm on my way."

With a quick curtsy and a "Thank you, my lady," and "Sorry…again…for…anyway," Paige rushes out the door as quickly as she had appeared.

"Of all the horrendous timing!" Maxon groans again as he secures my waist with his hands.

"I thought her timing was impeccable."

He laughs. "So, how close was I?"

"To what?"

"To getting my way?"

I blush. "Too close."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a dangerous…thing."

"I live for danger."

It's my turn to laugh. _Oh…if you only knew._

" _You_ are dangerous, my husband," I sigh, looking lovingly into his eyes. "In every…wicked sense of the word." My eyes fall to my palm tracing the lapel of his suit jacket. His body calls to me but I must resist.

I have plans.

"And you're certain you don't want to take advantage of me? I mean…I won't put up much of a fight, my queen."

I kiss his lips softly. "Later…"

* * *

The dinner party, a black tie affair, is in full swing as I meander through the bodies of guests stopping at intervals here and there to have a conversation or to meet yet another dignitary and his wife, brother, sister, daughter, mother or significant other. I feel as if my jaw is about to pop off from smiling so much.

Between and during conversations, my eyes scan the room to see if I catch a glimpse of Maxon. We had become inadvertently separated as he was whisked off by the Governor of Horundagua with a request to have his "Majesty's ear", which had become a running theme of the evening.

"His Majesty made a wonderful speech. Will you tell him so for me?" smiles the Baroness of Wales. I agree very graciously to pass on her message.

"Such a confident tone for such a young ruler. Magnificent. It's the sort of leadership we need to see from the next generation," adds her husband, the Baron.

I smile at his compliment, my heart full of pride that my husband's reputation was taking strong root among a more experienced and seasoned contingent.

"By the way you look stunning, Queen America,"the Baroness says, switching the conversation in a blink of an eye, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. "You do know how to fit a dress. I remember when I was your age. I had every head turn in a room," she giggles, pressing a gloved hand to her lips. "And with a body like that, nonetheless, I'm certain you do too."

I can't help but blush. "Why…thank you, Baroness."

"Heed these words of wisdom my dear. Stay away from chocolate. It's a sin, you know, how something so delicious could ruin such a magnificent figure."

 _'_ _But, I love chocolate.'_ I rebuff but smile instead, thanking her for the tip.

Moving on from that uncomfortable conversation, I make my way over to a small alcove. Servants weave in and out of the crowd hands busy with trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. I smile, proud at the planning and all the work that had gone into hosting our first state dinner. Maxon and I had opted for the event not to be some sort of boring, stuffy affair. Dinner had been served and enjoyed at the adjacent hall, and now we were all gathered in The Great Room which was elegantly decorated with long tables draped in white linen and set with a variety of elegantly prepared small plates and desserts pleasing not only to the eye but the taste buds as well. The room exuded an air of elegance thanks to Sylvia's guiding hand. It had been a dreadful amount of work but seeing the results before me now, it had all paid off. Music played pleasantly in the background and soon according to my itinerary, Gavril would make the announcement that dancing was soon to begin. I take a deep breath, more of relief than tiredness. I wondered how Maxon was holding up?

"Wow…that dress is even more stunning under these lights. Fits you like a glove, America. Makes me want to smack your ass myself." I turn to Marlee as she comes up behind me, holding two glasses of champagne.

I gasp, suddenly self-conscious. "Do you think it's too much?"

My champagne sequined evening gown was Mary's idea. She thought the young Queen should look stylish and at the same time sexy. Marlee was right. It did fit like a glove, very tastefully hugging my curves in all the right places. The sheer neckline flowed into a beaded collar that fit like a choker around my throat. Paired with a set of diamond studs, bracelet and a pair of open-toe high heeled shoes to match, I looked like one of those models in a magazine. Celeste would've been proud. I felt a little uncomfortable in the get-up initially but Mary convinced me I didn't have to dress like I was wearing a sack of potatoes. "You only live once," she had told me. And the more I allowed the dress to become a part of me the more I agreed with her.

Marlee rolls her eyes as she hands me a glass. "Oh please! It's perfect. I think you've caught the eye of every man in this room. Except for Carter, you know. He doesn't look at you in that way."

"Good God! I certainly would hope not. He's like my brother."

"Speaking of the devil." Marlee raises her champagne glass to my brother, Kota, who is engaged in a conversation with the Countess of Bromwall's younger sister. He acknowledges her greeting with a simple nod.

"I wonder what scheme he's running now?" I ask under my breath.

"Well…maybe he's trying to convince her to pose for him in the nude or she may just find him charming. He does have the Singer genes, you know. Think, if you marry him off to royalty, you won't have to deal with any more of his nonsense."

"If I could only be so lucky," I smirk.

"And not to alarm you or anything but I saw your mamma quite engaged in a conversation with the Viscount of Mormont," Marlee sings.

"What?! Didn't his wife just die?"

"That doesn't mean that he's dead, America!" Marlee cries, laughing. "Your mother is quite a knock-out. I'm sure she may want a bit of male companionship."

"No. She doesn't. It hasn't even been a year since my father passed."

"Your mother has needs too, you know."

"Don't be disgusting!"

"Whatever…" she mumbles behind her glass of champagne.

Suddenly, as if the sea parted, I catch sight of my handsome husband and all thoughts of my mother and her love life are out the window. Our eyes meet and we smile at each other. He is engaged in a conversation with Prince Marco of Italy but it seems as if he has eyes only for me.

With a nudge of her elbow to my arm Marlee smiles, "I see who's caught your eye now."

I press a hand to my abdomen. My anticipation has suddenly shot through the roof. I don't even bother to reply to Marlee's comment.

"It's go time. Have fuuun…" she gives me a telling wink and soon disappears into the crowd.

I bite my bottom lip, my eyes fixated on Maxon. He smiles back at me.

I tug my ear.

The expression on his face is a mixture of disbelief and if I weren't standing across the room I would sure be able to see the flash of red on his face.

Tugging our ear – it had long been our secret signal. But no longer was it an indication of a need for private conversation but it had evolved into something far more intimate. A signal for pleasures of a more carnal nature. We had used it on several occasions. During his meetings, in the company of friends or family, as we passed each other in the corridors. It was our secret. And I loved our secret. But it had never been used under this setting and I wondered if Maxon would oblige.

He looked devilishly handsome in his black tux which had been tailored to fit him perfectly. His royal sash draped across his torso. His hair laid slick and every bit of him screamed hotness. I was one lucky girl. My heart was thumping in my chest and the sudden rush of heat through my body made me well aware of the ache between my legs.

To my disappointment, Maxon seemed to have returned to his conversation. A peal of laughter draws my attention for a moment and when I return to the spot where Maxon had been standing, he was gone. I deflate but I wasn't giving up.

I decide to leave my perch and mingle in the crowd once again. I have a few words with Sylvia and Gavril. Natalie and her new boyfriend, which one was this? Harry? Thomas? John? Thankfully, I am spared embarrassment as she introduces me to John.

"I think he might be the one," she whispers after John leaves our side to fetch her another glass of champagne. I couldn't help a memory flash of Natalie at our wedding. The girl loved a good party.

I smile. "Make sure you invite us to the wedding."

To my pleasant surprise as I leave Natalie, Maxon was about a stone throw's away. Our eyes meet once more and he gives me a crooked smile. I once again tug my ear. This time I can definitely see the twitch in his brows as he tries to reserve his composure during the conversation he was now holding. Unfortunately, I am quickly whisked away by my mother.

After visiting with the Viscount of Mormont who was a handsome man for his age and indeed quite taken by my mother's charms I needed a couple glasses of champagne myself. I scan the room once more for Maxon. It seemed like my plan was ready to be marked as a major fail!

Gavril's voice booms around the Great Room cutting into my thoughts as he announces, "On behalf of Our Majesties, King Maxon and Queen America we hope everyone is enjoying the evening." Applause rings throughout the room to my relief. "We do thank Your Majesties for hosting such a lovely event. Now to continue on with the evenings pleasant activities, Your Majesties, King Maxon and Queen America will open up the dance floor with the first dance."

Before I knew it, Maxon is at my side.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance?" he whispers in my ear, his hand on my lower back. My face heats in a flash.

"Absolutely."

As Maxon leads me to the dance floor, the music starts. Every eye in the room is on us. I feel self-conscious at the attention but Maxon doesn't seem bothered by it and oddly it soothes my worry. He gently places a hand on my lower back, my right hand secured in his left. He pulls me closer as we begin a slow dance. Just being in his arms makes me feel as if I'm floating, as if it's only he and me in this large, open space.

"You've gotten better," he teases as we dance along. I roll my eyes.

"Are you having a good time?" I ask, diverting the conversation from my dancing skills.

He smiles. "It's been a success. All because of you." The pride in his eyes warms me.

"And Sylvia," I add. "I can't take all of the credit."

"You look stunning by the way." He stares deeply into my eyes, conveying unspoken thoughts.

"Do I, now?" I ask, coyly.

"You do."

"You look quite dashing yourself," I assess, biting my lower lip.

"It's hard work being your arm candy and all."

I throw back my head in laughter.

"Well..., I would love to unwrap my arm candy if you'd only allow me."

"Mmmm... As tempting as you are in that dress, sweetheart. We'd be missed."

I had given the signal. He knew what I wanted. I cock a brow and teasingly stroke the hairline at the back of his head.

His eyes fall close and he pulls me in closer. His mouth at my ear, "You're not making this easy."

"That's my point. I want to make it... hard." I whisper in return.

Maxon growls in my ear which instantly makes we pool with need. I'm damp and throbbing. I pull back just enough for him to take note of my expression but instead of giving in, he offers a slight shake of his head, denying me with a wicked grin.

Guess he needed a little convincing. I lean into Maxon, whispering in his ear, "And, I'm not wearing any underwear."

He jerks his head to meet my eyes. His eyes are like saucers. In that moment I know I've won.

"W-What?" I can see the very telling shade of crimson on his face. His eyes flit around the room as if everyone present was privy to our private and very intimate conversation. "No...You wouldn't."

I merely cock my brow again and smile.

Maxon's expression is priceless. Shock. Disbelief. Soon, a flicker of desire.

He releases a breath followed by a chuckle. He's speechless and that makes my confidence soar. He shakes his head as he bites his lower lip, as if he still can't believe what I've told him.

"I thought you promised to be on your best behavior."

"Who says I'm not?"

Again he chuckles, looks up to the ceiling then rests his eyes back on mine. We continue the dance in silence, looking deeply into the other's eyes. Wicked, wicked thoughts inundate my mind and I'm certain he is feeling as hungry as I am now.

"Parlor." I indicate as the dance ends with a chorus of applause. Right on cue, Gavril invites all of our guests to join us on the dance floor. Before I can blink, I am once again whisked away this time by the Prime Minister of England and both Orabella and Noemi, our Italian friends, lay claim to Maxon in an instant and I hear each unashamedly requesting they be his next dance partners.

Needless to say, retrieving my husband was no easy task but I was determined. I hoped the little mental image I had left him with on the dance floor was enough to encourage him. It was. Whenever I looked in his direction he was staring at me though he could carry on a conversation simultaneously. But I knew that look. He wanted me.

He tugs his ear.

I tug mine.

And I slip out the door.

* * *

I gather the material of my dress to avoid tripping on the hem and make my way quickly to the parlor room that has become my favorite place to pass time alone with Maxon. My heart is ready to burst through my gown and several sensations are assaulting my body at once.

The activity is scarce along the hallway, just a few servants busying themselves with duties and a few guests who take the time to curtsy and bow. I smile but make a bee line to the parlor.

Once inside, I manage to take a breath and lean against the door.

 _'_ _America, you're absolutely out of your mind.'_ My mother's voice chimes in my head. I press my cold hands to my cheeks because in this case, my mother would be undeniably correct.

I hear the knob turn on the door. My heart convulses.

It's Maxon.

No sooner do I open the door, he slips in and I'm in his arms and my chest heaves with expectation and his lips, oh those lips are sealed over mine and I'm tasting the sweetness of champagne on his tongue and inhale the smell of his cologne. I clutch the sleeves of his tux as Maxon pins me against the door. I let out a shameless, wanton plea at his show of force. I feel like an animal wanting to devour as my fingers slip into that gorgeous head of hair. His body is strong and hard and fully pressed against mine and I hear a groan of desire escape his lips as he moves to layer kisses along my jaw.

"Is it true?" he asks huskily against the corner of my mouth as he hikes up my dress.

I shudder and I'm breathless and I can't reply as the cool evening air skims my thighs. Maxon's hands are eager as they slide upwards. He pauses. "Holy hell. It is." He releases a staggered breath as if he can't believe what his hands are feeling or not feeling as a matter of fact. His hands are on my bare ass, roaming over my rounded hills.

He takes a step back to look. My dress is bunched over his forearms. He closes his eyes. Opens them. "God damn it, America."

I bite my lower lip. I don't respond. I'm reveling in his reaction. I drown in it. He looks at me and his gaze is fired. I know the look I wear…that of nothing but a naughty nymph.

His eyes drift to my sex. Bare for his eyes only. He curses and slips his hand between my thighs.

My legs tremble as Maxon touches me. Right where I need him to. Right where my desire for him overflows. And I close my eyes, my head resting against the door. I hold on to the door knob, the only thing keeping me anchored to this world.

"You feel perfect, America." His words make me heady as he boldly explores me. Maxon's fingers are like that of a maestro's conducting a well timed orchestra. As he penetrates me deep with his finger. As he teases my clit and gives it a little pinch. It's almost my undoing as I cry out only to be silenced by his mouth. I instinctively grip his shoulders, gasping as our mouths part for just a moment only to clash once again. He kisses me with hunger but I need more. We both do.

Maxon strips off his royal sash and I help with the jacket. He moves to the buckle on his belt and my eyes are glued to his fingers, making my heart race. I've been stripped of my senses but I'm also very hot and bothered and very, very turned on. And I don't care about anything but my Maxon and how ready he is to fuck me. His pants are down.

He is kissing me again as he hikes my dress back up, then his erection is brushing my inner thigh. The heat of his organ against my leg, makes my head whirl.

"We can't be gone for long," he tells me.

"I know," I pant, my hand already reaching for his erection, stroking slowly up and down his engorged shaft. "Ohhh, God you feel so good."

Maxon in one motion whirls me around to face the door. My face is planted against the wood. His arm wraps around my waist from behind. My legs are spread like an easel as he pulls on my waist making my bottom jut out towards him. I feel my arousal down my inner thighs and the press of his cock at my entrance.

"How I'm supposed to relegate treaties and speak of policies when…" he speaks in my ear and sighs as he buries himself inside my heat, his current line of thought leaving that instant. He groans. I moan feeling how amazingly hard he is. "America…damn. God damn, America."

He wastes no time as he begins to move hungrily inside of me. His excitement escalates with each hard, banging thrust he's giving me. I absorb them consecutively, using my flat palms against the door as a cushion for my body. Maxon grabs my hips, the sounds of his pelvis against my bottom makes me shiver and I feel my clit tremble in response and soon I explode in an orgasm. All the tension of the evening spilling from me. I utter my delight, biting down on my index finger to quell my cries from reaching beyond the closed door. Every part of me is hypersensitive, having been blanketed with a shroud of eroticism. I feel Maxon withdraw and his tongue is between my legs tasting my honeyed folds. Instinctively I reach behind me for the back of his head as he dives further into my depths with his tongue and a finger, then a second follows suit.

I'm in absolute ecstasy and I beg him to come back to me. I have a need and my body ripples with waves as if it were stuck in a riptide of spasms and quakes. Maxon obliges. He grabs hold of my hips roughly which shoots bolts of electricity through every digit attached to my extremities. I suck in a breath only to hear it carry my voice in shouts of praise and thanksgiving, his erection once again embedded deeply, fitting snugly within my walls.

Maxon's body is draped over mine and he's kissing me and telling me how much I blow his mind and other parts of his anatomy as well. I can't help the feel of elation and at the same time falling even deeper in love with him. We are both bound in the throes of heat and passion, mere slaves to the calling of our desires.

"God damn it you drive me crazy." His voice is raspy and all alpha male. My eyes roll to the back of my head as another orgasm rips through me, my clit dancing in euphoric spasms as I audibly let Maxon know he's brought me to Shangri-La yet again. He follows. I feel the strain of his body against mine. He grunts with the force of his climax and I welcome his delivery as he empties himself inside of me.

"Oh my God! That was fantastic," I say once I catch a breath. His forehead leans against the back of my head and he's still gripping my hips hard as if he is still basking in the aftermath of his powerful climax. He lets out a weary breath.

"On your best behavior, huh?" he teases.

I can't help but giggle. "Always."

After a couple of minutes we pull ourselves together. Maxon is again fully dressed and I make sure that everything on him is in order including his blonde mane.

We share an embrace and a parting kiss before he is gone.

I step to the gilt mirror hanging on the wall. I dig into my clutch for my lipstick and soon enough I'm headed back to the party. Fully satisfied and full of Maxon.

"So…," Marlee saunters over having caught up with me once I return to the festivities. "How was your after dinner delight?" She sips on her champagne.

I give her a sideways glance. The smile on my face, telling.

"Wonderful."

"Yours?"

"Divine."

I grab a glass of champagne from a servant passing by.

"Here's to us." I turn to Marlee as our glasses clink.

* * *

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	5. Masquerade - Part I

**Author's Notes:** **  
**

**Maxon and America host a masquerade ball but evil lurks just around the corner. This is Part I of II.  
**

 **Thanks to Erin for her wonderful suggestions that brought this story to you!  
**

 **A special shout-out to my beta-reader supergirls2008 _. You're the BEST!_ **

**_WARNING!_ For adult language. If this sort of content offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Masquerade"**_

 **Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies**  
 **Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you**  
 **Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes**  
 **Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you**

 **Part I**

 _ **~ In the Queen's Suite...**_

"It's here, my lady!" Paige called out to me as I entered.

Mary gave Paige a disapproving frown. "Oh, pipe down, Paige!"

I let out an excited yelp and rushed over to the large boxes set in the middle of my bed.

"Finally!" I beamed from ear to ear looking down at the boxes along with Mary standing on my right, Paige on the left.

Paige could barely contain her own giddiness. "It was delivered just a few minutes ago. Oh, please do open it! I'm dying to see!"

"If you don't quit with all your fuss I'll put you right out on your ear!"

"But we've been waiting for a whole two weeks!" protested Paige, ignoring Mary's scolding words and making me laugh.

"Leave her alone, Mary. You know you're just about as anxious as Paige," I smiled.

Mary blushed. "Perhaps…" she paused. "Well, don't keep us waiting!" she cried, not being able to contain her own.

I bit my bottom lip and setting my hands around the edges of the lid. I lifted the top off one the boxes. Mary, having taken it from me.

I could see Paige from the corner of my eye, hands folded and tucked under her chin, bouncing on her toes. "This is so thrilling!"

"It's just a costume," I said, pulling back the delicate black paper wrapping.

"No! Not just a costume," noted Paige and we all gasped in unison. "It's for a masque."

I lifted the black mask. The cut-out around the eye beautifully embedded with glittering, tiny blue crystals in the shape of a musical note. I couldn't help my smile. And set it against my face.

I heard Paige. "It's perfect."

* * *

 _ **~ Later inside the King's Suite...**_

"Your costume has arrived for the masque, Your Majesty," Harrison informed me as he dutifully brushed the shoulders of my suit with Scarlett, his preferred and most valuable valet's tool. I am scheduled for a brief meeting with our head of security to ensure all goes well for the ball tonight. The threat with the Southern Rebels is not over yet and although the attempts on the palace have lessened considerably, I couldn't take anything for granted. With so many high profile guests, I thought it prudent to go over the security protocols once more for good measure, hoping with all hope that this event goes on without a hitch.

"Excellent! America has been on pins and needles all week about this event. And our costumes no less," I chuckled, adjusting the knot of my tie. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

"If we must, I suppose."

"Come on Harrison, lighten up a bit!" I laid a hefty hand on his shoulder as we walked over to the bed. "Aren't you looking forward to the festivities?"

"Certainly not. With all due respect, Your Majesty, I've better things to do with my time than play dress up and carouse all evening long watching people make total assess of themselves," he paused briefly, adding, "Pardon me for being so forthright."

"Let me guess, you're going to be down at the stables." I noted, pulling up the top of the box concealing my costume.

"I find four-legged creatures much more agreeable than the two-legged sort. That is in no way reference to you, of course…Your Majesty."

I laughed. "No offense taken, Harrison. I wouldn't think you to be one to compromise your standards. But are you certain you won't join us?"

"I appreciate the invitation, Your Majesty. Besides," he sighed, "there is a full moon tonight and I am a strong believer that a full moon has strange effects on people's behavior. And I for one would rather spend a quiet evening in the company of the equine creation, one which is entirely unaffected by lunar-lunacy."

My brow was knitted in curiosity. "I'm surprised, Harrison. I never took you for the superstitious sort." I took a glance to my right where Harrison stood as I uncover my costume from under the white, tissue paper.

"A cynic, perhaps, but never superstitious. Yet there is something to be said about lunar-lunacy. The likes of a full moon have been known to have particular effects on certain species of animals. And are we not also just a different sort of animal?"

"You mean like people turning into werewolves?"

"Hmph!" he snorted as if I've offended or insinuated a gullibility on to him from my words. "I guarantee you, Your Majesty, I do not put stock in such legendary folk tales and outlandishly produced tall tales which are merely fabrications of a muddled mind."

"Many would say so regarding the belief in lunar-lunacy, you know," I said, with a cocked eyebrow.

"Touché, Your Majesty," he acknowledged and I felt a smile tug my lips. It wasn't very often I got one over on Harrison. "The matter is scientifically unproven, that is true. But I must say, when you get to be my age, you start to wonder."

I pull out the mask that was laid on top of a black suit jacket and place it on my face. "What do you think?"

"Good heavens. Are you to be the Phantom of the Opera?" He looked questioning, at the half of a white mask I hold against my face.

"At your service." I bent, with a bow.

I was glad to see the enthusiasm throughout Illéa regarding the arts. Due to the encouragement of my loving wife, knowing how music was such a dear thing to her heart, I had opened up to the public many of the banned Music and Arts archives from our history, exposing eager minds and hearts to discover and enjoy the talents of our lost forefathers. I knew it was something that could only enrich our culture and maybe help us to blend the lines between the castes.

"Curious choice. You do realize that the Phantom was a mad man who fell in love and was obsessed with the young protégé, Christine Daae who falls in love with another man thus leading to the Phantom into even further madness and destruction?"

"Very true, Harrison," I declared, whipping off the mask. "But, the moral of the story is that love surpasses all time. It lives and breathes even when we die. Although the Phantom was a mad man, he was a man in love as I am with my beautiful America. I will love her beyond death. And time. I am her Angel of Music."

"It is a fitting image of madness if that was your intended goal I suppose and as long as you don't drop any chandeliers on top of your guests tonight, I do hope you enjoy yourselves."

I bowed. "I will do my best to be a most gracious host."

* * *

 ** _~The Ball_**

 ** _Outside in the Palace Gardens..._**

The sky sparkled with stars and the moon shone, a silvery orb above like a luminescent, round pearl. The perfect backdrop for the evening. The party flowed from the Great Room of the palace spilling into our beautiful gardens. The air was crisp and cool. I was glad for the relief. I inhaled, letting the refreshing night air fill my lungs and glide over my dampened skin.

My costume, an elegant, sleeveless, chiffon white gown, with an empire waist was fitted around my bosom. A thin band of crystal rhinestones ran straight beneath my breasts and over my rib cage drawing the eye directly to the slightly revealed hills of my cleavage. The dress, which skimmed the edge of my toes, paired well with the angel's wings, made of what seemed like the softest downy feathers I'd ever seen and in such delicate design I was almost afraid to put them on. Mary had pinned my hair up with an elaborate design of twists and diamond studded hairpins. Soft wisps of red hair lined the sides of my face. She still insisted on coloring my eyes in dramatic fashion saying, _'You don't wish to look wretched under your mask, do you?'_ I had learned to let Mary have her way. It was useless putting up an argument. As for the final piece, my black mask, the blue eye in the shape of a musical note completed the look. I had to say, once I was all put together, I looked mischievously heavenly.

My costume matched well with my husband, the Phantom, I, being a representation of his alter ego, the Angel of Music.

Now, If only I could find him!

As I stood in the courtyard, I was in constant awe at the different costumes and intricate masks that walked about, like eerie collections of puppets and dolls. Harlequins. Sad faces. Smiling faces. Stoic faces, painted half black, half white. Clowns. I hated clowns. Nymphs and devils, some horned like satyrs, others scarlet red. A few donned ominous masks – pictures of of death or despair. Of course there were the standard kings and queens. Also, a variety of representations of the animal kingdom, including several horses, a tiger and a monkey; not the most elegant creature I would've chosen. But the woman dressed in her elaborate peacock costume sure turned enough heads, including my own with her very long legs and...tail feathers.

"There you are, my angel."

"Maxon…" I breathed his name, as if it was its own entity inside of me. And I supposed it was. He was my life. I smiled brightly turning around to greet him. He smiled and lowered his head to kiss me chastely.

I felt myself warm all over. His lips brushed gently against mine. As by instinct, there was a magical pull between us as our lips parted, our tongues meeting, sweet and tender, coupling in a sensuous dance. Maxon pulled me closer, his hands slipping around my waist as mine settled on his shoulders. I heard myself moan and I didn't want the kiss to end but he pulled back slowly, the eye not hidden behind his mask sparkling with mischief.

He let out a breath. "Wow." I couldn't help but giggle. "Kiss me like that again and the Phantom will have no option but to carry you off to the depths of his secret lair so he can have his way with you," he grinned.

I sighed. "You say the most romantic things." I smiled in return, admiring how sexy he looked in his costume, a white dress shirt under a black suit, red paisley vest and black cravat, all reminiscent of the 1800's. I had never been more proud of Maxon when he came to the decision to release so many wonderful genres of the arts – ballet, opera, something called Broadway and rock 'n roll. They had been devoured by the masses and gained him even more praise from his people. Having this wealth of information at our disposal now, I dove into research making sure the specifications to his costume were as authentic as possible. And looking at him now...it was well worth it. He looked devilishly handsome.

He smiled at my compliment. I loved the way Maxon smiled at me. The curvature of his lips, the laugh lines that brought shape to his mouth. The way his features rang so pure and honest. And the glint in his eyes, like a bright star that I peered into every day, the likes of which have made my every wish come true.

"So how much longer must we stay? I'd like to take you to my secret hideout and…pluck your…wings."

"Maaaxon," I blushed furiously. "We can't just…disappear."

"Well…" he pressed his lips against my ear, his voice so soft, so seductive. "There's the parlor. Give me fifteen minutes with you..."

"Maxon! Quit!" My cheeks felt on fire.

"I've never made love to an angel before. But then again, I might have and just never realized it."

"You are clever, aren't you?"

He leaned into my ear again, whispered, "What do you say?"

My heart did that thing it always did when he spoke to me with such husky, sexual undertones.

I felt instantly drugged. I opened my mouth to answer but I didn't have a chance at a reply.

"Bonsoir, Your Majesties." A man stood before us. Maxon and I separated as the man whipped his hat with the large feather on the side off his head, revealing a thick mass of black hair and bowed to us.

By the tell-tale sign of the strong French accent behind the mask and unmistakable head of black, I recognized it was Frederick. Queen Daphne's husband.

"And who might you be, sir?" Maxon asked with a wry smile.

"D'Artagnan is my name. A Musketeer, loyal to the crown."

"The French crown, no doubt," retorted Maxon.

He straightened up. His form was tall and confident. "Ah, ouí! France is number one in my heart," he said, placing the hat over his heart. "But you are…friends. Friends of my Queen are mon amis."

"Friends, indeed. Good evening, Prince Frederick." The monarchs exchanged courteous nods.

I painted on my biggest smile. Maxon took my hand and hooked it around the crook of his arm and I felt a great sense of comfort. I had tried to avoid Frederick all evening. His attempts to procure a dance with me have met without success. And for good reason. The French monarchs have been here for an entire week and it's been a week too long. It was quite known that the Prince Consort had a wandering eye _and_ hands and though not proven, rumors had it he had not been true to his marital vows. Daphne seemed unaffected or perhaps willfully overlooked her husband's indiscretions. Yet, the two appeared very affectionate with one another, Frederick constantly doting on Daphne whenever she was in his presence. It was a puzzlement but one I had no desire to solve. I just felt a need to keep my guard up around Mr. Octopus, just in case. But, I wouldn't hesitate to break a finger or two either.

"Bonsoir Prince Frederick." I greeted.

He smiled radiantly, taking my free hand to kiss the back of it. "It is lovely to hear you speak my language, Queen America. I wish you would do so more often." His green eyes, so radiant, stilled on me.

An unpleasant shiver ran down my spine. Knowing very well the reputation that preceded him, the way Frederick looked at me made me uneasy. It was not the way a man should look at a woman who was not his wife.

"I do need the practice," I managed to say through a knot in my stomach.

Frederick was a very handsome specimen of a man; brooding, with an air for the mischievous. His smile alone possessed the ability to make women weak at the knees and along with his dashing looks, the voice of a Frenchman always seemed to do something uncanny to make a woman blush. He had married Daphne not long after Maxon and I were wed. A few months later, Daphne Ascended to the French throne and Frederick became Prince Consort.

"Such a lovely…language," he smiled, as he let go of my hand. I took it back and held on to Maxon, this time with both hands. A broad smile spread across his face as he notes our costumes. "I see you have chosen to represent my native country as well. The Phantom of the Opera...one of my most beloved books."

 _I'm shocked to think he even knows what a book is!_

"As well as The Count of Monte Cristo. Have you read it?" He doesn't wait for a reply. "I love the broken, maligned character. To see that one rise from the ashes of despair, makes for a grand story." He smiled, seemingly well pleased by his literary knowledge. "And you, Queen America are an angel."

"The Angel of Music. The Phantom's alter ego," I remarked, glancing over to Maxon who was looking directly at Frederick.

"Very clever. And a very lovely angel you are, indeed." Frederick unashamedly fixed his gaze on me again, one that pinned me where I stood.

The gruff sound from Maxon as he cleared his throat broke the spell, shifting Frederick's attention to his. "And where is _your_ Queen?"

"Enjoying the festivities, no doubt. It seems like ages since she's visited Illéa, she keeps telling me. But we are honored to have been extended your generous hand of hospitality."

"The honor is ours. Especially during these delicate times. Being in agreement is for the good of all, don't you agree?"

I swallow knowing the content of Maxon's words. The treaty. There had been a rift between France and Illéa since Daphne had Ascended. I knew little of Daphne personally, but what I did know in relation to my husband, explained much. ' _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'_ , was the saying. And I knew what that meant; a woman scorned would be a bitch to deal with in the future. And I understood all too well that when Daphne looked at me, she saw I had taken her place at Maxon's side.

But, this treaty was important to Illéa's position in the arena of international politics and we needed the cooperation of the French. We already had strong support from Italy, Swendway, Germany and several other nations. With a growing tension between the Russian Federation and New Asia, there was need to stabilize matters. And the French played a key role in its success. Though France was a small country, it retained much power and thanks to Daphne's ruling hand, that power had grown. And she wielded it in her short time as Queen.

"I cannot agree with you more, King Maxon," Frederick responded affably. "Yet, that is a subject for another time, eh?" he smiled. "This is a party!" he cried, in his thick French accent. "Now…" he turned to look at me, "Do you mind if I steal your wife…"

"Pardon me?"

"For a dance?"

I felt the sudden flex on Maxon's bicep, his hand balled into a fist. His demeanor though, hid whatever bugged him inside. He smiled agreeably. "Unfortunately, Frederick. I think this next dance is mine." Relief spread through me. I looked at Maxon and his smile was nothing but adoring.

Frederick acquiesced with a simple bow, stepping aside as Maxon whisked me off inside.

Whatever it was that had made Maxon react to Frederick's offer to dance with me in such a manner, he didn't mention and I didn't want to bring it up. I resigned myself to enjoy our dance instead. Being in Maxon's arms always felt like a safe harbor. As long as I had his arms to settle into, to wrap around me, I felt safe and loved as I did at this very moment.

Looking at his features behind the mask of white, feeling the broad shoulder hidden under the texture of the material of his jacket with my fingers, his strong hand pressed solidly on the small of my back made me feel so protected. And the way he carried me along as we glided around the mystical dance floor as if I were his one and only purpose, made my heart flood with so much love for my husband. I felt as if I were living a dream all over again.

The lightning was dim, the ballroom fused in a mixture of yellow, green and red spotlights. It gave the ballroom an aura of fantasy. Blue demons danced along with red headed fairies, the Harlequin's with their dreary painted faces danced with a grace of a pair of ice skaters. Marie Antoinette with her very pronounced bosom held her dress in one hand as she danced with her partner – a man dressed in the black hood of an executioner. The sight made me look twice. I had the feeling of being surrounded by madness and at the same time, I was enthralled.

Masquerades had always had a history of the strange and unknown; the mystical, the eccentric, the bizarre. It was a dimension of its own making where a person could throw on a disguise and hide what or who they truly were behind a costumed face. It was weird and yet wonderful all the same.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my angel?"

Maxon's voice snapped me out of my trance. "I am."

"You have something on your mind."

I smiled timidly. He knew me so well. "I can't help but think about Daphne. Do you think she'll sign the treaty along with the others?"

"I would hope she sees reason behind what our goal is. The last thing any one of us needs is a war. But, you never know with her," he sighed.

"I'm sorry." I ran a hand down his shoulder. "We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves and here I am, talking politics."

His smile was gracious. "As a true Queen would. Don't feel sorry. One should never stop thinking about what can be done to make things better for everyone. It tells me you care. And makes me love you that much more."

I threaded my fingers behind Maxon's neck, a faint smile playing on my lips. I looked at him, my eyes half-lidded. "Is that offer to your dark, secret lair still open?"

He arched his brow and with a smile spreading over his luscious lips said, "Most definitely."

As the music ended and the colored lights dissolved into a warmer, muted glow of yellow, we turned to leave and I gasped. Standing there, next to us was Frederick, appearing seemingly out of the thin air.

"Sorry, to have frightened you," he apologized with a bow of his head.

The hammering in my chest rattled my insides. "Whisking off with your lovely Queen?" Frederick asked barely glancing at Maxon. Again his eyes were fixed on me.

 _He must've overheard our conversation_ , I said to myself.

Maxon gave a polite smile in return. "For some fresh air."

"Ahhh…ouí. Please forgive me for being so impetuous, Your Majesty," he turned to Maxon, then to me. "I was promised the next dance, ouí?"

Maxon's arm tensed again. I could see the instant frown of disapproval from the twitch of his unmasked eye. "I believe…"

"It's okay, Maxon," I interrupted. "The Prince has waited all evening. I think I owe him a dance for his extraordinary patience." _Best to get it over with_ , I thought. Another forced smile appeared on my face.

Maxon doesn't protest but I could see he wasn't happy about this. "Very well." He placed my hand in Prince Frederick's open hand. I felt a stone weight drop in my stomach. "Just one." Maxon's tone was flat but he quickly caught himself joking, "I would hate to have to send my palace guards after you, Frederick, for _stealing_ my wife."

Frederick grinned no doubt recalling his earlier words to Maxon. "Just one dance."

I smiled at Maxon doing my best to hide my anxiety as Frederick curled his fingers around mine, leading me off unto the dance floor.

Frederick turned me to face him. Placed his hand on my waist, securing my other hand in his. I saw the amusement behind his mask as his green eyes pierced through me. I quickly looked away, concentrating on the other dancers on the floor as we began a slow waltz.

"Are you having a good time, Queen America?"

"I am," I smiled reservedly but tried to keep a lightness to my voice. I remembered Maxon telling me how he dealt with high stress situations. _'You learn to put on a mask to hide your deepest anxieties. You can't let your face show what you're truly thinking or feeling.'_

And that is what I attempted. "I feel as if I've danced enough to last me a whole year." I gave a little laugh.

"And here I am, imposing on your grace."

"No, not at all." Our eyes met and his gaze was steady, fixed on me once more. I was beginning to feel naked, as if Frederick was stripping each layer of clothing right off my body. "And…and are you...you enjoying the evening?" Suddenly my tongue wasn't working.

"I am now."

I'm rendered speechless and my cheeks flush unexpectedly at his compliment. I was unprepared for his bold words. His green eyes reminded me of a cat on the prowl. But I remembered I had to remain unflustered.

"I'm sure that is an exaggeration."

"I do not believe it to be an exaggeration but a statement in truth. The French have a great appreciation for beauty. Some of the greatest lovers in romance have been French men, ouí?"

My cheeks flame and I'm thankful for the mask I'm wearing. I'm beginning to realize just how skilled Frederick is with his choice of words.

"That is a statement laden in truth. Your people do have a reputation for…the romantic."

"Indeed. I believe women are God's greatest gift to men," he smiled. "They need to be uh, how would you say…esteemed."

I tensed immediately, feeling a little squeeze to my waist as the stone weight in my stomach sunk deeper, pulling me along with it. Frederick didn't seem to flinch and I suddenly wonder if I've imagined it. I recovered saying, "No wonder you have such a loving marriage. Daphne is a fortunate woman then."

"Yes…she is." His grin reflected self-satisfaction. "Daphne is one of the most beautiful women I've ever known. Whom I adore with all my heart. My mother, second."

I'm taken aback from his confession and suddenly thrown into a vat of confusion. He seemed to notice. "Does that surprise you?"

"I…I don't…"

He grinned. "You don't need to explain. I'm well aware of the rumors. But be rest assured, I love Daphne and my loyalties are to my wife. I would do nothing to pain her in any way. I would die for her."

I suddenly felt ashamed. Had I misjudged this man? Here he stood before me, declaring his love for his wife, his undying loyalty while the entire time I had given ear to these rumors.

"I must admit…"

"Please…" he gave a slight shake of his head. "No need for apologies. But we are clear, no? I would hate for you, of all people to have a low opinion of me."

I returned his grace with an apologetic smile, nonetheless. "We are."

Frederick eased the tension I had been feeling and we spent the remainder of the dance speaking of our costumes and the reasons we had chosen these as Robin Hood who smiled at me and Maid Marion, who wiggled her fingers at me in a hello gesture, graze by us. Frederick seemed like a very charming man, light-hearted and full of life. I scolded myself for falling prey to those ugly rumors. Every person should be given a chance to prove their worth, I should know and I had been too quick to condemn Frederick.

He bowed after the dance. "Now I must return you to His Majesty, otherwise I fear I may be tossed in the prison tower for my impertinence." His manner disarms me even further and I laugh. "Shall we?" he asked, holding out his arm for me to take. I slipped my hand into his arm and we turned from the dance floor to find Maxon.

We found him speaking with the Harlequins and I stiffened.

"Is something wrong?" Frederick asked.

"It's silly…you may think it's silly, but I hate clowns."

He gave a rueful laugh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jest, no pun intended, at the source of your dread."

I smirked.

"Porquoi?"

"They are very strange. Clowns, jesters, that is. With their creepy, painted faces. I don't know...they give me nightmares."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, everyone has something they fear. You are not alone. Spiders, heights…ducks."

"Ducks?" I paused, my brow crinkled. I regarded him inquisitively and then waved a hand. "Never mind, I don't want to know. And what is yours?"

"Balloons."

I laughed. "Balloons?!"

"You laugh. See, it is crazy, no?"

"I'm sorry," I giggled, pressing a hand to my midsection. "I will be certain not to ever attack you with any balloons."

"And I will be certain never to come to one of your parties dressed as a clown."

We shared another laugh.

"Would you mind telling Maxon I will return shortly?"

"I'm afraid I cannot let you out of my sight. You are my charge after all. Until I deliver you safely into His Majesties hands."

"I'm not a package, Your Highness," I smirked.

"Please...we are friends. Call me Frederick."

"Alright. Frederick, then. But, I can take care of myself. And besides, where I'm going you can't follow."

He inclines his head. "Very well. As long as you tell your husband I was not short of being faithful to my duty."

"Agreed. And I will not to allow you to spend more than one evening in the prison tower," I joked and we laughed again. Maxon catches my eye and I mouth I will be right back. He nodded and continued his conversation with the dreary looking Harlequins.

Picking up my dress, I made my way down the hall. Between the champagne and a few tasty beverages, a couple of which emanated clouds of smoke like a witch's cauldron, it was the perfect time to retire and an opportunity to freshen up. With quick steps I passed the Lone Ranger and a couple dressed as a bullfighter and flamenco dancer.

"Beautiful costume!" I said as I rushed by.

I ran up the stairs on my way to the Queen's suite pulling off my mask and passed along a couple guards on duty who bowed and greeted me. The soldiers' uniforms always reminded me of Aspen. I think of him and Lucy dressed as Robin Hood and Maid Marion. They looked so happy on the dance floor. I smiled, knowing how happy they were as newlyweds. It was nice to see how Lucy had become Aspen's much needed anchor. And it appeared that our friendship had healed at last.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," greeted the guard stationed on the floor leading to the Royal habitations. I returned the greeting and run to my room, opening the door. I wasn't expecting Mary or Paige to be on hand. Both were under direct orders to enjoy the festivities tonight. It had been very well deserved. Paige had chosen to represent rock 'n roll in her poodle skirt and bobby socks. Mary, on the other hand, as a more daring flapper dancer from the 1920's. That was so totally Mary.

I used the facilities and took a moment to reapply the sparkling lip gloss Mary demanded I wear with my costume. Also, I couldn't help but look at myself in the standing mirror, twisting a bit sideways to look at my wings. The angel wings of my costume were still much intact and I giggled, remembering Maxon's words about plucking my wings. I would definitely allow him the opportunity later if he still felt inclined to do so.

The thought of Maxon warmed me. I walked into his bedroom. The balcony doors were open wide. The draft of the cool evening air and moonlight touched the linens on our bed where Maxon and I had made love under its very silvery light. _Two lovers in spotlight,_ I thought. My heart fluttered. The sound of gaiety and soft music filtered into the room flipping the scene in my head. I walked unto the balcony taking in the magical scene below me. Guests in costumes. Servants dressed in black or white wearing alternating black or white colored masks serving drinks or appetizers. There was a beauty to the scene that I couldn't tear my eyes away from.

Never in my lifetime as a girl living in Carolina, had I thought of being privy to an event like this. But now, here I was – its hostess. My heart felt alight and joyful.

 _Enough with patting yourself on the back, America_ , I chided myself and recalled my senses. I still had a party to host.

I grabbed my mask, hastily making my way down to the party, taking the same back route I had on my way to my room.

"Frederick!" I cried as we crashed into each other in the stairwell between the first and second floors. My mask rolled down a couple of steps before Frederick catches it.

"Oh. Do pardon me, my lady," he said, handing me the mask. "I should learn to pay more attention to where I'm going," he lamented. "Are you hurt?" He asked, holding on to my arm, scanning to see if I had been injured. I assured him I wasn't.

"It's not your fault anyway. I shouldn't had been trying to put this stupid thing on my face as I walk, especially down the stairs."

"A gentleman should always take the blame for a beautiful woman," he grinned.

"That's very gallant of you but it's not necessary. Really, we are both unharmed." I smiled, though I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable in such closed quarters with Frederick who was not wearing his hat or mask. "Well, if you will excuse me then, I will see you downstairs."

I moved to leave but his grip tightened on my arm. "Why rush off so quickly?"

I looked at him confused. There was a sudden darkness that played along the smug look that dawned on his countenance. "Frederick, what are you doing?" I demanded, my smile turned into a scowl as I tried to rip my arm from his grasp. It was no use.

He moved swiftly, like a cat pouncing its prey. He pinned my arms to my sides and pushed me hard against the wall. I gasped. The fastenings of my angel wings were pressed into my back and the smell of liquor and cologne drifted strong in my nostrils and Frederick's lips were crushed against mine. My body had gone stiff as a board. Groans of protest vibrated against his mouth as he tried to push past my lips with his tongue. My mouth was clamped shut and he groaned in a mixture of impatient desperation, his body now glued against mine. I couldn't even raise a knee to his groin! I pressed my hands against his abdomen but it did no good. My leverage was severely limited and I couldn't push him away.

A cry of pain rose from Frederick's mouth as I bit down hard on his lip. I tasted blood and the pang of fury as it rose within me. He loosed his hold on one of my arms and the sound of a slap echoed in the stairwell. But he was quick to recover and pinned me against the wall once more. "Let go of me!" I hissed. He merely gave me a smile as his tongue licked off the blood from his lower lip. The temporary satisfaction I felt from the slap quickly faded.

"I like your fire, America. I can see why Maxon married you. I can only imagine what you are like in bed. Wild, are you?"

I inhaled a breath, repulsed at his words as I struggled to get loose from his grip. "Maxon is going to kill you for this!"

He laughed. "You won't tell him. Unless you don't wish that treaty to be signed."

I stopped struggling and swallow hard at his threat. "What?!" I said, my brow tightly furled.

He smiled smugly again. I wished I could slap it off his face! "You will learn rather quickly, my young queen, how agreements tend to come about. We all have our part to play. And you my dear, will play your part."

"You're disgusting!"

He merely snickered. "My dear, America. I can show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams," he whispered against my ear. I felt bile rise up in the back of my throat at his insinuations. "I can make love to you like a real man should."

"You're not a real man. Maxon is a thousand times more the man you will ever be, Frederick! Whatever happened to Daphne being the love of your life? How could you do this to her?"

His anger flared at the mention of Daphne's name and he jerked me against the wall. "Don't you dare question my love for Daphne!" he spat. As if regaining his control he said, "I have her ear. Daphne will do as I say." His tone was threatening. "And if you value your husband's little peace agreement you WILL NOT refuse me."

Shock, anger, dread, disgust flooded through me. "You're a sick bastard. I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO THREATEN ME FOR YOUR SICK PLEASURE!" Fire built up in my entire body and I was resigned to fight to my very last breath. "NOW, LET ME GO!" Tiny feathers from my wings rose around us as I tried to free myself but it proved useless.

He only laughed at me. "You can't touch me, my lady. I have political immunity and I always get what I want!"

"GUARDS!" I cried at the top of my voice but his hand quickly clamped over my mouth. My eyes went wide with fright and all I heard were the muffled sounds of my cries for help.

I didn't even know what happened next or where my rescuer came from but I knew that voice, Maxon!

"GET OFF OF HER!"

And all of a sudden, Frederick was hauled off me, his body tumbling down the steps to the small landing. Maxon was on him in a flash and all I saw were fists hurtling, raining down on Frederick and the sounds of Frederick's grunts and the thumps of bone against bone. Maxon stood and kicked Frederick in the gut making him huff and curl into a tight ball, then kicked him again.

"MAXON! STOP!" I cried. I ran over to Maxon, yanking his arm but he looked like a man possessed of anger as he kicked Frederick again.

"YOU COME INTO MY HOME AND YOU ASSAULT MY WIFE?!" Maxon leaned over Frederick, a fistful of black hair in his hand. He'd jerked Frederick's head upwards to glare down at him.

Pretty soon the stairwell was full of guards. Maxon pulled the arm I held free from my grasp and punched Frederick one more time, square on his mouth. I screamed as the impact sounded and blood squirted from Frederick's mouth.

"Maxon," I called to him, my eyes full of tears. "Please...don't...don't," I pleaded.

As if he finally heard me, he shoved Frederick's head, his grip released. Frederick only laughed and laughed.

"GET THIS PIECE OF SHIT OUT OF MY SIGHT! LOCK HIM UP IN HIS ROOM...AND POST TWO GUARDS AT THE DOOR!"

A couple of the guards moved quickly and hauled Frederick off the floor, taking him away.

"AND SOMEONE GET A HOLD OF DAPHNE!"

The remaining guards looked at each other either unsure of who should go find Daphne or where to find her.

Maxon's voice blasted, "ANYBODY! NOW!"

Immediately, guards scattered, one giving orders to the rest. The confined space filled with the sound of shuffling feet and the thumps of shoes running down stairs until all there was left was silence.

Maxon ripped his mask off his face and with a maddening growl threw it against the wall.

And before I could blink I was in his arms. He held me, pressed against his body, his hand fixed on the back of my head. He buried his face in my hair and kept telling me he loved me over and over. I clung to him as I would a lifesaver.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his hands on my face, neck, shoulders and arms, checking as if he were taking inventory of all of my parts, making sure nothing was bruised or broken.

"I am now." I didn't want to tell him how scared I had been but my body betrayed me.

"You're shaking."

And without another word, he swooped me into his arms and carried me upstairs.

* * *

 **What did you think of Part I? Please leave a review, share your thoughts!  
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 **Now readers, don't fret. Part II won't be long in coming! And yes, it will have all the sexy bits you like ;)**

 **If you've missed my comments in the Review section, I will not be posting a Bedtime Story in November. I have reserved this month for a special project I will be working on hence, I've put forth an extra effort to make the October Challenge story much lengthier with two updates. This story will resume posting monthly once again in December. **

**Keep those suggestions coming! There have been some REALLY good ones as of late :)  
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 **If you posted a review, please check out the "Reviews" section to see your special message :)**

 **If you are interested in submitting a request, p** **lease read _" Guidelines for Special Requests"_ in the Author's Notes in Chapter 1 of _"Bedtime Stories"_  
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 **PART II - COMING SOON!  
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	6. Masquerade - Part II

**Author's Notes:** **  
**

**The conclusion to _"Masquerade"_. See what happens after the incident with Frederick. This is Part II of II.  
**

 **Thanks to Erin for her wonderful suggestions that brought this story to you!  
**

 **A super shout-out to my beta-reader and book lover partner in crime, supergirls2008 who introduced me to my second love, Will Herondale. My heart swoons! Can you believe I actually finished this story?! Thanks for your support!**

 ** _WARNING!_ For graphic sexual content. If this sort of content offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Masquerade"**_

 **Masquerade! Paper faces on parade**  
 **Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you**  
 **Masquerade! Every face a different shade**  
 **Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you**

 **Part II**

 ** _~ In the King's Suite_**

I had lost count of how many times I'd already kissed her face, wiping the tears away from her beautiful cheeks. "I'm sorry," I kept telling her. "I'm so, so, sorry." I had failed her and the guilt was eating me from the inside out. She had buried her face in the crook of my neck, her arms wrapped around me tight and mine like iron gates around her under her angel's wings. We had been sitting on the edge of our bed under the stillness of the silvery moon. Somehow the gentle touch of moonlight made things feel more private; a moment just for us; a moment to comfort my love.

And now I knelt before her, begging for her forgiveness. I kept holding her hands in my own, kissing the backs of them over and over again. Each knuckle, each finger. I had done my due diligence to protect all of my guests and yet I had failed miserably to see that the danger to my own was not a threat outside the walls of my home but one staying under my very roof, eating at my very table! Fury was clawing at me, seeking a release, one preferably against Frederick's face!

She had blamed herself for not being smarter or for being too trusting.

"No, darling," I looked up into her glassy, blue eyes, my palm cupping her face. "You didn't do anything. This was not your fault." I inhaled then breathed my confession. "It was mine."

"No, Maxon. You musn't think that way. You..."

I shook my head. "No! I'm your husband! You are more precious to me than any crown, or alliance or damned treaty! My job is to protect you, America!" I said, vehemently, squeezing her hands, the intensity behind my gaze, fierce. "I didn't do that. I failed you!" The truth stung like the strike from a scorpion.

"You haven't failed me!" She matched my gaze with one just as fierce. Her voice then softened. "You were there. You did your job. I can only love you for it. And I do love you, Maxon, with every fiber of my being."

I couldn't take her words of kindness and mercy right now. In my heart I should've seen the wolf in sheep's clothing; the villain behind the mask. I could feel the anger bubbling in my veins like molten lava, wishing I could squeeze the life out of Frederick's miserable body. My hands clenched into two solid fists but I pushed my anger down. She had witnessed my rage, a part of me so reminiscent of my father. I had sworn to never be like him but even some promises seemed foolish to keep. I would fix this. I would make it right. But right now, I needed to be here for America. Dropping my head to rest on her lap, I let go of a hefty sigh. Her fingers raked gently through my hair. I felt a kiss on my temple. "I love you," she whispered. My arms curved around her hips, holding on to her for dear life.

I raised my head and she looked at me with eyes still full of love and trust. "And I love you, more than life," I told her.

Our time was cut short when several knocks sounded against the adjacent door.

"My lady! Are you in there?"

Mary. I had sent for her to come at once. I stood, reluctantly leaving America's side. I flicked on the lights and opened the door.

"Your Majesty," she curtsied. Her eyes were wide with worry. "I came as soon as I was told."

"Thank you, Mary." She was still dressed in her costume and rushed by me straight to America once I stepped aside. As soon as she reached her, America shot from the bed and arms immediately swung about, wrapping around the other. Many would've thought the scene inappropriate but if they only knew how much America was loved, and looking at those two, it was quite apparent. A quiet sense of relief ran through me knowing America was in safe hands.

"Are you okay, my lady?" I heard Mary ask.

"Yes, I'm fine, Mary." The sound of America's sniffle reminded me there was still much unfinished business. I took in a breath and approached them.

I smiled at America, rubbing a hand down her bare arm. "I will be back as soon as possible."

"Maxon…but our guests…"

"They've been told you've retired for the evening. Don't worry." I kissed her forehead. Then turning to Mary, "Please make sure the Queen has anything she needs."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

I gave America a smile before walking towards the door leading out of my bedroom. As I reached for the knob, America called me. I turned to see her running towards me, the wings of her costume bouncing lightly behind her. She still looked like my angel.

"Yes, darling?" Her blue eyes were big, and they bore into mine with a look of utter concern.

"What're you going to do?" Her voice was but a whisper. I looked down at her hands flattened gently against my chest. I wondered if she could feel the furious pounding of my heart. I wrapped her small hands in my own.

 _'Murder him,'_ I thought, but said instead, "I haven't figured it out yet. But I don't want you worrying about it, understand?" She nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"Hey," I whispered, lifting her chin with my index finger. "I've got this, okay?"

She gave me the faintest of smiles. "Okay."

Then I kissed her softly and was out the door.

* * *

 **~ _On the Third Floor_**

As soon as the door closed behind me, I saw Stavros waiting for me down the hall, dressed in a fine suit, his fedora hat in hand. He'd told me his fascination with the era of Al Capone and Tommy guns. It was a bit contradictory to his _"play it by the rules"_ nature but, nonetheless, it suited his style. I pushed the frivolous thought away instantly. I had more important matters at hand.

"Your Majesty."

"Did you find Daphne?" I asked as he walked alongside me matching every determined step I took.

"She is waiting in your office."

"And has she been told why I've asked to meet with her?"

"Just that His Highness was involved in an incident. Per your orders."

"Very well."

"But her advisors are asking why is their Queen being summoned for a private meeting at this hour?"

"It's a _private_ meeting, Stavros," I growled. "What the hell do they want? A damn agenda?!"

"I apologize, Your Majesty. But, you know the French." I shot him an unamused look. "And…I thought it prudent to send for Dr. Ashlar…to tend to his Highness. If anything, for appearances."

I gave him a simple nod, thankful he always looked out to cover my ass.

We stopped just short of my office. "This matter goes no further than the parties involved, understood? Make sure the guards understand as well or there will be hell to pay."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

Leaving Stavros behind, I reached my office and paused in front of the mahogany slab. Standing there, I took a deep breath attempting to still my fury. The knob felt cold in my hand, clashing against the heat of my palm. The coolness of the metal felt like a splash of cold water to my face. It wouldn't do any good to rant and rave as much as I wished to have ripped Frederick limb from limb. I needed to control myself. As many of the rumors that floated around about Frederick, I was sure things hadn't been easy for Daphne to deal with but that wasn't my problem. My wife had been assaulted and this was not a matter I would easily forgive or forget. I realized I had no real options. I couldn't kill him even if I wanted to and any accusation, no matter how truthful wouldn't stick. He was better protected than my own wife inside what was supposedly the sanctuary of her home. Nevertheless, there would be a price to pay. Gathering myself I took one last breath. And stepped inside.

"Daphne," I greeted, with a tone as frigid as the artic. The Queen of France who was dressed as someone likened to Scarlet O'Hara, _'_ _how fitting'_ , I thought, turned to meet my gaze.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, her brow knitted tight. I brushed past her without a reply and rounded my desk. "What have your guards done to Frederick?" She neared, standing before my desk, our eyes glued on each other. "He looks as if he's been in a brawl! And, I demand to know why he's being held as a common prisoner?! He should be getting medical attention!"

"The doctor is with him as we speak," I informed, matter-of-factly.

"I demand answers, Maxon! We have come to you here in good faith…"

I slammed a fist down on my desk which startled her. "In good faith?" I sneered.

"Of course." Her eyes looked at me, questioning as I stepped from behind my desk, feeling the fire burning behind my eyes. I approached with careful steps, the control I sought to keep quickly slipping from my grasp. Daphne backed away as the distance between us shrank. "What is the matter with you?" Her eyes were accusatory which only fanned the anger I felt.

"Maybe you should keep your husband on a shorter leash next time, Daphne," I said, venom dripping from my words. "He better be happy I didn't do worse to him than he deserved."

She gasped. "You? You did _that_ to my husband?!" She pointed in the direction of the door as we now stood face to face.

"Count yourself lucky I didn't make you a widow tonight."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand," she said, her voice lowered, but defensive. Her eyes stilled on mine and I could see her chest rising as if she were readying herself for an avalanche to overtake her. I felt a flicker of guilt but swatted it away.

"Didn't he tell you?" I asked through gritted teeth, the scene of my wife pinned against the wall replaying in my head. "Or are you so used to covering up for him that you've traded away whatever dignity or self-respect you once had, if you've any left to show."

"I beg your pardon?" Her gaze was fired. She looked like a bull ready to charge, ready to defend the bastard. "Frederick…"

Anger, like a tsunami burst through me and I wanted her to drown in it. "HE ASSAULTED MY WIFE!"

The reaction I expected – disbelief, dismay, remorse, embarrassment proved opposite of what came at me which nearly knocked the air out of me. Daphne laughed, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth; her eyes bright with amusement. Her laughter pealed with an incredulous air of arrogance, one mocking and wicked as she took in what she must've seen written across my face; utter confusion. It was as if she had transformed into something else. Something darker and ominous. Every tendon in my body flexed as taut as the strings on a violin. My jaw clamped shut, my brow pulled so tightly I felt the pressure piercing through my brain.

She had stepped away from me, laughing at me as if I were some fool. My eyes followed her, a viper slithering before me. I had every murderous thought flood through my mind. Daphne turned back to face me, smugness clearly visible. "Oh, is _that_ what you're so worked up about?" she snickered, "America's virtue?" Her eyes looked at me, like two black, empty pits. This was not the Daphne I had grown up to be friends with. Sweet Daphne who loved to laugh and climb trees.

"Grow up, Maxon!" she cried, a bitter amusement playing off her words. "This is the world we live in. Infidelity is nothing new among our kind so get used to it. We are what we are. I'm certain your father was no saint, just as certain as I am that my father was not! This is the price we pay for power…and to get what we want."

"The treaty? Is this what this is about? Frederick said he would convince you not to sign if America didn't sleep with him! You're threatening to bring war?! Is that what your aim is, Daphne? You would try to use _my_ wife as some sort of _bargaining_ chip?"

"Damn your treaty! This has nothing to do with your damn treaty, do you hear me, Maxon?!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Daphne stood straighter then, very regal and diplomatic with her shoulders squared back. It was as if she had flipped a switch. The mask of duplicity haven fallen away. She looked at me with an intensity so fierce that if her eyes could fling knives, they would've pierced every one of my vital organs.

"Do you remember what I told you that night at your birthday party? That you were too blind to see love if it stared you right in the face? Do you?!" she said, her voice scaling in pitch. She approached, narrowing the distance between us again. "I was ready to give it all up for you, Maxon! My life. My crown. They didn't mean anything to me if I couldn't have you. I wanted _you_! But you were too blind to see it. To see how madly in love I was with you and how devoted I would be. Frederick was not. Though I might've not been in love with him as much as I had been with you, he has devoted himself to me," she said, fingers tapping her chest. "He worships the ground I walk on and he does exactly as I tell him. It wasn't your stupid treaty I sought to destroy, Maxon. It was something so much closer to your heart."

This must be what it felt like to be hit with a sledgehammer square in the gut. I realized Daphne and I had parted on uncertain terms but I never would've believed that someone I had considered a friend at one point would go out of their way to bring me to my ruin.

"You…you _did_ this? Have you lost your mind?!"

"YES! Call me crazy if you'd like!" She paused. I could see her eyes, glassy with tears. "You...hurt me. I wanted you to feel what I felt when you turned your back on me. How helpless and vulnerable I felt because of you. You tossed me aside as if I meant nothing to you."

"I didn't love you! Did you wish me to make promises to you I couldn't keep?!"

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY! DAMN YOU!"

She turned to the window, her back facing me. I thought I heard her sniffle but when she faced me again, she looked completely composed. "But you went ahead and had your precious buffet of girls to choose from…and you chose, _her_. Your sweet, America; so common and unrefined...so, unspoiled. I wanted to show you what a huge mistake you had made. Everyone's virtue has a price, Maxon. None of us is immune. Not even your _precious_ America." The sound of America's name spat like vomit from her mouth. "Frederick was only doing what I asked of him as he always does. He takes no step without my direct knowledge. He is loyal and true to _me_. That…is love."

I ran a hand through my hair in disbelief of the words filling my ears. "You are wrong, Daphne." I shook my head. "You are so wrong if you really think that _that_ is what love is. You don't know the meaning."

The expression on her face changed from one of defiance into one etched in pain. "Love is all about sacrifice and the sacrifices we are willing to make. Don't you understand?" I didn't understand. What I felt was pity instead. I felt sorry for Daphne, for how twisted she had become. Love was so many things but I knew it wasn't what Daphne had defined in her mind. Love was a gift to be given freely not a tool used to wield power and to control.

I shook my head slowly, exhaling an exasperated breath.

"How can I make you understand?" I looked at her as she choked back tears that now had visibly welled. "I loved you. There was nothing, _nothing_ I wouldn't have done for you, Maxon. There _IS_ nothing! I still love…"

"STOP!"

"Maxon…please…" she reached out to grab the sleeves of my jacket. Her fingers pulled tight on the fabric covering my arms. "I do love you."

"Daphne!" I grabbed unto her arms and shook her. "I don't love you! I love America! _She_ is my world and from the looks of it, I got the better bargain." Tears fell from her eyes but I couldn't forgive her treachery. I released her with disgust. "I want you out of here by morning light," I said with a pointed finger in her face. "Do we understand each other?" Lowering my hand, I took a breath. "I am a forgiving man, Daphne, but I will never forgive you for this. We are through."

I shook my head and turned, walking towards the door.

"What of your treaty? You _need_ me! You can't do this without me, Maxon!" she cried.

I didn't look back as I neared the door, wishing to rid myself of her once and for all.

"Go to hell."

"MAXON!"

* * *

 _ **~ Sometime later...**_

 _ **In the King's Suite...**_

"Maxon? Are you asleep?" America whispered. Her head rested on my chest, her arm draped around my waist. Our room was lit only by the dim light of the moon. The noise outside had died down by now and I surmised that most of our guests had retired to their rooms or had headed back home.

"No," I replied with the same whispered tone. I ran a hand down the skin of her arm, wrapping my arms around her as she shifted. Sleep was fleeting.

After my conversation with Daphne I had met again with Stavros and informed him of my decision. The French monarchs would be leaving the palace early in the morning. He would arrange transport for the French delegation and assured me that things would be kept as discreet as possible. He would fabricate a story to excuse the sudden departure of Queen Daphne and her husband. _Matters of state business_ worked for me. I left the details for Stavros to handle although he did mention to my dismay that it would be most inappropriate for me not to be present at the Queen's departure. I agreed to be there reluctantly.

I headed slowly up to my room, my mind whirling from the evening's events, and more so from Daphne's startling revelation. I still couldn't wrap my head around it. Had I really driven Daphne to become the monstrosity that had stood before me? Her venomous talk, the bitterness she'd harbored so close to her heart. I almost felt pangs of guilt. Our lives had intersected but they weren't meant to continue on the same road. She answered to her crown as I did to mine. It was a fate unavoidable and no matter how much she might've wished for things to turn out differently, we were both servants and not masters.

"I can't sleep either," America said, raising her head to look at me. "Are you okay?"

I gave her a gentle smile. "I am. I have you in my arms where you belong." It felt wonderful to hold her like this, to know that what we shared was true and special. Our love wasn't tainted by dark objectives or marred by insidious tactics sought to destroy the lives of others. My love for America was what I had vowed to give only to her, to keep reserved in my heart for her alone and to protect forever. There was no doubt in my heart that America felt the same. Daphne said love was about sacrifices and the sacrifices a person was willing to make and such was true. I would sacrifice my life for America but that didn't mean I would ever betray her love or her trust for some twisted sense of revenge.

"I'm fine. You?"

Her soft sigh brushed against my neck. "I am as long as you keep holding me."

"I would never let you go if I had a choice."

She actually gave a quiet, little laugh then sighed against me once more. "Hold me, Maxon. Just keep holding me."

"Of course, darling."

She nuzzled into my neck. "I love you. And thank you."

"For what?" I said, my brow slightly wrinkled.

"For taking care of me. For making sure that I feel safe again. For sending them away."

I rubbed her back. "They'll be gone soon enough. There won't be anything for you to worry about."

"I love you," she whispered in my ear and kissed me softly there. I felt the immediate rush of shivers but shook them away until she did it again and goosebumps covered my body. Her kisses where feathery on the side of my neck and her opened hand ran over my chest with the gentlest of touches. I closed my eyes fighting off the thoughts flooding my head at the moment and I damned myself for thinking them.

Her mouth traced along my jawline to the corner of my mouth. My hand gripped the back of her nightgown and I felt myself wanting her right now. My chest rose with the dire need of breath and when she pressed her mouth to mine, I had to speak.

"America?"

"I need you, Maxon." Her words formed against my mouth.

"But…" She silenced me with a kiss, a very sensual kiss. I couldn't help but kiss her back. Yet a part of me was cursing my obvious desire. I knew she had been through enough tonight and I wasn't sure if she was emotionally prepared for this sort of engagement.

Her kiss deepened with intensity and she moved to straddle my hips. She sat on top of me, looking ethereal as the moonlight glowed around her. Long, red tresses draped over her shoulders. Her sleeveless nightgown pushed high over her thighs, revealed her silken legs. I ran my hands over them. I could see her breaths rising and falling under the V cut of her gown which sloped sensually down between her breasts. She was my angel. My one and only angel. America's hands framed my face and she leaned down to kiss me again, her hair falling as a curtain over me. She smelled of decadent vanilla which assaulted my senses. My mouth opened as I accepted her sweet tongue. There was a need growing, painfully so as my manhood responded instantly and I damned myself for my weakness.

Skilled hands slipped under my tank top, pushing the material up above my abdomen. My skin was fired hot and my stomach clenched with desire as her palms pushed further up my body. I took a hold of her hands, bringing them up from under my shirt to my lips.

"What's wrong?" she swallowed with a hint of worry.

I sighed. "America..."

"I know what you're thinking, Maxon," she interrupted, her eyes soft as if she were seeking my understanding. "That we shouldn't be doing this. But...I'm not broken. My mind and my emotions are not confused or muddled. I am not compromised, my love. I know my heart. And I realized, just having you hold me, isn't enough for me right now. I need you, Maxon." She pressed her lips against mine.

Once our lips unhitched, I nodded, looked into those stunning blue eyes, running my fingers through the curtain of her hair. "Are you certain?" I asked, my thumb brushing her chin.

"Y-Yesss..." Her breath hitched and her fingers gripped the sides my tank top. Her eyes were big and bright.

Bringing her head down to mine, inching my face closer to hers, I whispered, "Because...I don't wish to rush...anything..."

"Take me slow...but take me..." And once our mouths collided, we were both lost in the taste of each other.

If slow had been the intent, it had flown right out the balcony door in that very instant. There was a desperate hunger behind our kiss, as if we hadn't tasted the other in ages. But it wasn't wanton or mindless. It was full of love and a need to love the other. I had never felt a kiss that burned my mind, body and soul the way we were kissing. And we had shared more kisses than I could ever count now. Yet, this kiss took the universe into it, wrapping it around my heart...it was immense, boundless, breathtaking. It was all of her love for me. I understood then, what America meant. Frederick had attempted to take her from me and Daphne had sought to deal me a death stroke. They had, both of them failed. America loved me and I loved her and there would be nothing that would ever tear us apart. Our love was complete.

I clutched the material of her gown tightly between my fingers and an overwhelming urge to rip it off her body licked my insides. I pulled her closer to me instead, her slender form writhing against my own, alive and wanting.

"I love you, America," I uttered against the column of her throat. She sighed audibly as if my words had singed her skin. I could feel the thrumming pulse of her fire against my lips. I nipped at her neck and sucked the ridge of her collarbone. She gasped and trembled at once.

America sat back, pulling the nightdress over her head and tossed it aside. She sat perched, like a mermaid, her hair tumbling down to cover her breasts.

"Touch me, Maxon."

I brushed her hair aside, her rounded mounds dotted with two perfectly erect nipples. My hands cupped her breasts, her beautiful, perfect breasts. Her back arched, pushing her flesh further into my hands. I had never touched anything so perfectly soft and pliant. I wrapped an arm about her waist, hoisting myself up to sit. My mouth was on hers in an instant, my hands – on a breast, the other, flat against her naked back, holding her to me. I layered kisses everywhere my mouth could reach. Her face, her throat, her shoulders but when she slanted back, her palms on the mattress, giving me free reign to her bosoms, I couldn't help but admire her...so beautiful. I gathered her breasts in my hands, teasingly laving her hardened nipples with my tongue. I raked my teeth over each one and her moaning response only encouraged me to repeat the action again. My nose nuzzled between her bosom and her scent was intoxicating. My opened hand trailed from her throat between the valley of her breasts over her flat stomach to where her panty sat low on her pelvis. Slipping my index finger between the lace and her skin, my excitement mounted; the hint of her trimmed field brushing against my digit.

America sat up on her knees, reaching for the hem of my wife beater and hoisted it over my head. It disappeared into the darkness. She returned her focus back to me, covering my neck and chest with sweltering kisses, her hands roaming about my body. She paused for a moment running her fingertips over the scar on my chest.

"You have always been there for me," she said softly, her eyes lifting from the scar of that bullet I had taken for her, to my eyes. America lowered her head and planted a kiss on my scar.

I swallowed, my heart thumping so fiercely inside my chest I thought it was sure to break loose from its cage. "Always..." I said, almost breathless. And we were kissing again, a full, wet kiss. I flipped her over so she now lay under me. Her legs naturally parted and she wrapped them around the backs of my calves, pulling me closer unto her. The only sounds in the room were those of our panting breaths, our moans of desire and little words of encouragement that induced action.

She reached for the drawstrings to my pajama pants.

"Not yet," I whispered against her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip with my teeth.

A slight protest floated off her lips which made me smile against her mouth. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

America's body lay against the sheets, languid and undulating. My hands and mouth marked every luscious place as I made my way south pulling her lacy panty off. It too was also swallowed up by the darkness of night. The melodious song I heard filling our space as my tongue found America's sweetness was everything I wanted to hear. Her hands were deep in my hair as I pleasured her the way she liked - running the tip of my tongue over her entrance to the little hill of her clit where I drew it between my lips, sucking and massaging softly with my tongue.

"Ohhhh...God...yes!" she cooed. And of course I felt proud that I could drive her to the edge of glory and insanity at the same time which was exactly what I was about to do. Toes of her left foot came to rest between my shoulder blades which I thought was sexy as hell. I rested a hand on her abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of each breath as I coupled her womanhood solid against my mouth, my tongue unceasing in its sensual exploration. America took hold of my hand resting on her abdomen, the intimacy of that simple gesture made my heart flip-flop. Her hips pitched against my mouth as my arm wrapped around the leg that was draped over my shoulder. Her verbal cries rained about me as her grip on my hand tightened. It was my cue to stop. And when I did, so abruptly, she was panting as if she'd just run a mile. It's exactly the way I wanted her – breathless and ultra sensitive.

Her eyes regarded me questioningly as I sat back but the expression was immediately awash as her eyes fell to my hands, making short work of the drawstrings of my pajama pants and quickly tossing them aside.

Her arms extended, America reached for me and the soft moan that filled my ears as I entered her, made me sigh with a euphoric sense of satisfaction. I was inside of her, gripped by ultimate pleasure. Her heat was immeasurable and I heard myself groan.

"America...oh, my God..."

I buried my head into the crook of her neck, our bodies joined as one.

I raised on my elbows to look into her eyes as we made love. Her eyes spoke all the things my heart was hearing. How was this even possible? To communicate such a depth of love without having to utter a single word. This was a gift. And I had been blessed.

I didn't want to rush this and my movements were slow, deliberate and deep. It never seemed to amaze me how well we fit together as I filled America with each drive. Arms and legs wrapped around me. Mouth and tongue nipped, tugged, licked and kissed at my shoulders, biceps, pulse points on my throat. And the teasing, feathered fingers scrolling up and down my back and ass made me lose any bit of control I had remaining. "Faster..." she said. "Harder..." she commanded. I growled at her insistence, gripping the edge of the mattress as I delivered my thrusts the way she demanded them to be given. A rhythmic thump of the headboard joined the tune of the rocking bed and the chorus of sexual moans, whimpers and cries to the heavenly heights. "Maxon...Maxon..." America clutched my shoulders, my own hands digging into her hips as we tumbled together pushing each other to the edge until the edge was non-existent and we were falling over and she rippled explosively around my swollen manhood which pulsating, released powerfully into the depths of her sweet chamber.

We clung to each other, both breathless and flushed. I pushed aside the damp locks of her hair that stuck to her face. "Damn...you're so beautiful. So...fantastic. I guess I do know what it is like to make love to an angel."

"I will always be your angel."

"I know."

* * *

 _ **~ Early the next morning...**_

America was sound asleep. She lied on her stomach, her red hair splayed over her shoulders. I pushed it to one side, laying a tender kiss between her shoulder blades. I didn't want to wake her. Dawn nearly greeted us as we finally drifted into sleep. I smiled remembering how she joked, _'There must be fairy dust in the air because I can't seem to get enough of you tonight.'_ True to that statement, we made love again and it was as explosive as the first. In the comfort of our love we had laid in each other's arms, sharing our thoughts about the incident and Daphne's deceit. America had been deeply hurt by Daphne's actions and seeing that initial look of pain on her face had been enough for me. Although I didn't utter the words for fear of alarming my wife, I was very capable of killing Frederick or any other man that dared to touch her. I felt my father's rage like an innate monster which had been suddenly roused from sleep. But unlike my father's rage, mine would never seek to harm the ones I loved. Instead, it would serve for their protection only . And I knew in my heart as good as America kept telling me I was, I would never forgive Daphne. Hatred, I had known. I had felt jealousy myself but what she had done, was reprehensible. She was dead to me now. Still, in all of the chaos it was amazing how America and I could find peace once again. It didn't mean we were over the hump. It would take time for these wounds to fully heal but I was here with my love and she was safe in my embrace.

A soft knock rapped on the door. It was time. I carefully unwrapped myself from America who only shifted and fell back to sleep. I rolled out of bed, found my pants, quickly putting them on and answered. Stavros informed me that the French monarchs were soon to depart. I nodded and readied myself though Harrison would probably scold me for doing so without his help. Even though he knew I was able enough to handle dressing myself, he still wouldn't approve. Fully dressed in a suit, shirt and tie, I walked back to the bed, sitting gently down next to America's slumbering figure. Instinctively, I traced my fingertips down her bare back. "I love you," I whispered into her hair, kissing the mass of red and just as gently as I had taken a seat, I rose and headed out the door.

Once I reached the main floor, I was met straightaway by Stavros who brought me up to speed on the departure of our French guests. "Prince Frederick has already left for the airport, Your Majesty." I nodded, my jaw clenched. _'The damn coward,'_ I thought initially and pushed down by bitter irritation. No, this wasn't cowardice. This had been a deliberate, calculation by Daphne. She was no fool after all and keeping her beloved away from the face of any controversy and my fists was a prudent move indeed.

"I thought you may also like to know that most of the remaining guests are still in their rooms due to the late evening. And we've asked the few milling about to stay in their quarters due to...security measures until Queen Daphne's and Prince Frederick's departure from the grounds."

"Thank you, Stavros."

The leaved doors of the palace were opened wide and I could see black cars parked in the drive as servants hauled and placed luggage into the trunks. Security detail, always on alert, stood guard as the French entourage climbed aboard into their respective cars. I looked around for Daphne wanting to make sure I played my royal part by giving her a proper send-off. I felt a murderous twitch as I caught sight of her raven hair and pale white skin standing in the foyer. She was flanked by a couple of her advisors who on seeing my approach parted from her side. They greeted me with a bow and exited out the door. I stood there, face to face again with the woman who had been once my friend.

"Daphne." There was no lightness to my tone.

"Bonjour, Maxon." She wore a knee length dress and high-heeled shoes. She was holding what I believed America said was called a clutch in her hands, looking demure. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Daphne was a very beautiful woman, but her beauty was only skin deep. I knew her content and it was nothing like my America. Her smile was sly as her eyes shamelessly scanned me from head to toe. She sighed. "You are still...handsome as ever." My face remained stone-like. "Oh, don't look so offended. After all, there was a time I would've said that and you would actually blush."

"Yeah," I replied with a lack of emotion as I offered her my arm to lead her to the car. She took it and we headed out and down the stairs.

We walked the short distance in relative silence until I said, "I heard your husband didn't stick around so I could wish him a farewell. Pity."

"You didn't really think I'd have Frederick anywhere within your grasps, did you?"

"I was really looking forward to having a nice little chat with him...damn it," I added sarcastically.

We reached the car and stood next to it.

"I still regard you as an ally Maxon even if you cannot ever see us being friends."

"What could you possibly know about friendship?"

She snickered. "Don't judge me so harshly, Maxon. Sometimes one can rationalize one's own actions in one's mind and feel justified we are doing what will prove for our advantage."

"That's the difference between us Daphne," I paused and leaned in to whisper, "I haven't traded my soul to the devil."

She gave me a crooked grin. "Not yet," she said straightening my tie. She smelled sweet, like French lavender and her lips were as rosy as I had always remembered them being. "Always the champion of integrity, aren't you?" Her hand traced over the lapel of my suit jacket. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes raised to meet mine. "Just so you know that I meant what I told you last night, how I would do _anything_ for you. I signed your treaty. I hope you will see it as a gesture of my goodwill."

Part of me felt a jolt of relief or gratefulness, I couldn't pinpoint the exact emotion but I couldn't bring myself to thank her. "You did the right thing, Daphne."

"Don't...get confused, Maxon. I didn't do it for them. I didn't do it for peace. I did it for _you_."

The chauffer approached and I waved him off, reaching for the car door. As I pulled it open, Daphne moved to enter but then turned around to face me. "Let's not be at odds with each other, Maxon. It is better for us to be allied than for us to be enemies." I held her hand aiding her as she climbed into the car. The door closed with a thud and I stepped back, sliding my hands into my pockets. My reflection in the tinted window stared back at me.

The car window made a whirring noise as it rolled down.

"Maxon?"

"Yes?"

"Our story is far from complete. This is not the end. Who knows? Maybe we will be family some day." With a wink and a smile she turned her gaze from me to the driver. "Aller!" she commanded with authority and slowly disappeared behind the darkened window like a fading apparition.

I took a deep breath cringing at the thought of being tied to the hip to Daphne in any manner. I was thankful at the moment that the odds of that happening were zero as we were both childless. My mind quickly retuned to America, sleeping upstairs in our bedroom. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I would be a father one day. And it was the most wonderful thought imaginable. I watched as the last cars rolled down the long driveway and out of sight.

Exhaling a breath of relief feeling as if I'd just cast off a demon, I headed back in haste up to my room and to my sleeping wife.

Once inside, I discarded my jacket and slipped off my shoes, climbing back into bed with my love. I snuggled up behind her, laying sweet kisses on her neck.

America lazily sighed and though I couldn't see her face, I knew she was wearing a smile. I placed a hand on her stomach now smooth and flat thinking that some day I would caress her swollen belly; a product of our love.

"Hey handsome," she said sweetly, reaching back to place a hand to my cheek.

"Good morning, darling." I greeted, kissing her cheek.

"How did you sleep?"

"Soundly. In the arms of my angel."

"Good. You'll need your strength."

"Why is that?" I teasingly asked.

"You're just in time for breakfast."

"My favorite meal of the day."

And as we kissed the world outside disappeared and it stayed that way for the remainder of the day.

* * *

 **Yay! Don't you just love happy endings?!**

 **Thank you so much to EVERYONE who left a review or thought for Part I. You are ALL so awesome! It makes my day getting your reviews!**

 **Check out the "REVIEWS" section for my replies :)**

 **Please leave a review, share your thoughts on Part II!  
**

 **Just a reminder that I will not be posting a Bedtime Story in November. **

_**BEDTIME STORIES WILL RETURN!  
**_


	7. Because of You

**Author's Notes:** **  
**

**THIS "BEDTIME STORY" IS FOR ALL OF YOU ON SANTA'S "GOOD" LIST!  
**

 **Those of you on Santa's "NAUGHTY" list...Stay tuned!**

 **Read how Maxon and America spend their first Christmas together.  
**

 **This was a suggestion by a Guest reviewer.  
**

 **To my beta-reader supergirls2008 -I'm running out of adjectives to describe your awesomeness!**

 ** _WARNING!_ For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Because of You"**_

 _ **(A Maxerica Christmas Story)**_

 _ **"Anyone can catch your eye but it takes someone special to catch your heart" ~ Anonymous**_

 _ **~ Maxon**_

"America, stop asking so many questions," I retort as I hold on to her hand. She's wearing a blindfold as we're making our way from the ornately decorated Great Room.

It's Christmas eve.

"If you'd only answer just one, Maxon!"

"You agreed, remember? No questions after putting on the blindfold."

"I know. But, I didn't really think you literally meant _Nooo, questions_! Really, Maxon…Where are we going?" America asks again as I pull her along. I'm glad she's wearing the blindfold otherwise my smile would give me away.

I try to keep my voice even so as not to give away the excitement I'm feeling about the little surprise I have planned. "Patience is a virtue, darling. You'll find out soon enough."

It's late and most of the staff has retired early to spend this special time with family. America and I had hosted a dinner earlier in the evening for our personal staff and their families. My mother-in-law, Magda, along with America's siblings, May and Gerad along with Kenna and her husband, James and little Astra, were also present, although Kota said he would be unavailable to join us this time. America was furious but that was typical Kota, I reminded her. The Woodwork's and Aspen and his family were also in attendance enjoying the festivities. They were more like family now than friends, really.

I never remembered Christmas like this before as we presented personal gifts to each staff member. Sure, there had always been beautiful decorations, a massive tree and plenty of gifts; a full table with no shortage of good things to eat and drink but as I stood there, watching this room full of people, it wasn't the bounty of material things that filled me with joy. I had never had a house full of real friends and family. Their laughter and bright smiling faces made me feel whole.

Images of Magda fussing with Gerad as she wiped his face off with a napkin and Carter, in deep conversation with Harrison, both seeming to share an affinity for the outdoors came to mind. Marlee and Kenna huddled in a group that stood around the fireplace that included Mary and my aunt Adele, one holding a cup of eggnog, the former a glass of champagne. Their laughter resonated through the crowd. I couldn't help my smiling face as I scanned the room, finding May and Paige tucked away in a corner, no doubt secretively speaking of their latest crush. And speaking of romances, Aspen knelt next to Lucy as she sat in a chair, nursing a drink in her hand. America and I had an on-going bet as to when those two would be getting married. And then there was my sweet America. My heart fluttered and bubbled over with happiness. She was on her knees, her dress spilled around her in a pool of soft midnight blue, her hair gathered to the back in gentle curls. I was staring at the most beautiful woman in the world to me and the sound of her laughter captivated me. Her little niece waddled towards her with unsteady steps, giggling triumphantly as she reached her aunt's outstretched arms. America clapped and cheered, scooping her up, smothering her with kisses as little Astra giggled and wriggled in her loving arms. I wondered what it would be like to have a child of our own.

"Well, when you said you wanted to give me my gift, I wasn't expecting a blinded excursion through the palace, my Royal Husbandness. Because I can't possibly fathom what sort of gift this could be. Marlee wouldn't tell me anything either! She said you swore her to secrecy or else."

I couldn't help a laugh.

"Funny, is it?"

"Actually, yes…at least she can keep a secret...unlike your mother," I tease and America laughs.

"Uhh...Careful here. Watch your step," I say, turning to take both of her hands guiding her up.

"Are we going upstairs?" she asks, her hands gripping mine as she tentatively takes each step. "Is it your plan to seduce me while I'm blindfolded?"

"Hmmm…that's not a bad idea, now that you mention it. But…no, our bedroom is not our destination."

"That's unfortunate. It was a rather exciting thought."

"I'll keep that in mind for future reference."

We go up the necessary flights of steps all the while America is attempting to guess what it is I'm up to. With each guess, I only chuckle.

"Stop here," I say, opening a door. She reaches to touch the blindfold. "Uh-uh…hands down. No peeking." She smirks. I reach for her and she holds on, her fingers wrapping tight around my forearm, the other lays secure in my hand. "It's narrow, so take your time."

"Okay. Though I have to admit, Maxon, out of all your surprises, this one has me absolutely intrigued," she smiles.

We reach our destination and I push the door open with my shoulder. The cooler air greets us but I'm glad for the temperate weather. An advantage to living in Angeles.

"Are we outside?" she asks at once. The air is fresh and crisp.

I hold on to her hand and covering a small distance, I place her where I need her to stand. "Okay," I say. "Don't. Move."

She chuckles. "Not moving."

I stand behind her, my arms circling around her waist. "Okay…you can take it off now."

With sheer excitement, her fingers pull off the black fabric. "Maxon!" she gasps. "W-What?"

"Surprise," I whisper in her ear, kissing her temple.

She turns to me in my arms. America opens her mouth, then closes it. Then finding her voice asks, "How?"

I give a slight shrug. "A little creative imagination," I grin.

We are on the rooftop. Strings of white lights line the perimeter of the roof. A lighted tent with the entrance rolled back gives sight to a space dressed in colorful cushions, blankets and pillows reminiscent of our honeymoon. A small stand with a bucket of champagne on ice sits near the entrance.

She turns back to the tent, her eyes catching the strands of light wrapped around the parapet and her expression is priceless; a mix of surprise and wonder etched beautifully in her profile. My smile is as bright as hers.

She turns in to me, her arms circling my neck. Her eyes twinkle and her smile lights up again. She leans in to kiss me but then cries, "Maxon, look!" Her chin juts out to signal over my shoulder. She is pulling on my hand now and I follow her to the edge of the rooftop. "It's so beautiful." Her voice is soft, bathed in awe.

We stand there, her arms sliding around my waist, mine wrapping about her, looking out into the distance. As far as the eye can see – houses and rooftops decorated with lights, twinkling like brightly colored miniature stars, some in patterns others in synchronized flickers. Here, in the stillness of night was a tiny piece of our kingdom and it shone of hope and promises of a better tomorrow for all. America was right. It is beautiful.

I think back to our last Christmas. Although the day had come and gone without her, I had shown up to her room with her gifts in hand– the first love letters I had ever written and the framed picture of the pretty yellow house– the house her family would live in once we were married. I had been so happy to have her back home after her father's funeral. There was a sadness in her eyes when I first saw her. I didn't fully comprehend it at the time as empathetic and comforting as I tried to be. It was the day I had chosen her and I feel a sudden pang in my chest as the memory of how close I had come to almost losing her hits me.

I'm caught off-guard as she spins around and kisses me. I ease into the kiss seamlessly, pulling her in my arms, my palms flat against her back. A sense of pure relief washes over me. I did not lose her.

"Thank you. This is…this is better than I would've ever dreamed."

I smile. I can't help but wonder if she sees I would never be the same without her. My heart swells with thoughts of us; of her love for me. "Come."

We walk back holding hands. I stand at the entrance of the tent. I hand America a champagne glass as I grab the bottle by the neck from the bucket. America watches and she shrieks as the cork pops and goes flying in the air.

I fill her glass then mine. "To us."

"To us," she echoes as we touch our glasses and they gently clink.

She takes a sip and stares at me, her countenance thoughtful.

"What?" I grin, wondering what she's thinking.

"Do you remember," she starts, her tone delicate as if the memory she recalled was so fragile it would break, "the last time we were up here?" she asks.

I nod, taking a sip from my glass.

"We danced in the rain. It was one of the most romantic things I'd ever done. And you kissed me. Remember, Maxon?"

"How could I forget?" I feel my face soften as I look at her. Things were so uncertain between us back then.

"It felt so right. I knew…that very day…I knew I loved you. But I was too scared to tell you. I should've told you…"

I cup her face silencing her with a kiss. The taste of champagne and strawberries mingle on my tongue.

"That doesn't matter now," I say, brushing my lips against hers. "I know you love me. And I love to hear you say it."

"Maxon?" Our mouths are barely an inch apart. Her sweet breath brushes over my mouth.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Shivers run down my spine.

"Do really want to know what's on my mind?" she asks, her eyes falling to my lips.

"I'm dying to know…" I swallow feeling that all too familiar sensation I've come to associate with America.

She doesn't speak. Setting her glass down on the stand, she takes hold of the lapels of my jacket. I down my drink before following suit, placing my glass next to hers.

And she pulls me eagerly inside the tent.

* * *

"Oh my God!" America murmurs against my bare chest as she layers kisses from one side to the other, up to my collarbone. My chest continues to rise and fall in uneven breaths, having just experienced the earth shaking bliss from making love to my wife.

America rakes her fingers down my chest to my abdomen saying, "How do you keep getting better at this? You are an absolute stud."

I can't deny the bloom of pride I feel. "I promised to keep you happy, didn't I?" I say with a hint of smugness.

She grins. She draws my bottom lip between hers, while simultaneously pressing a hand down my thigh over to where she now fondles my softened member, which wipes the smug grin off my face in a flash. "You are extremely talented and oh so _blessed_ with all of the right parts." She sighs. "I can say, I am a _very_ happy woman." America entices another kiss from me finally adding, "I could ride you all night long."

A stream of shivers rush through me at her naughty words.

"You know," I tell her, my voice lowered and playfully threatening , "where that kind of talk only gets you."

She gives me a wry grin. "Why do you think I do it?"

I laugh. "You damn little minx."

"And you love getting me all hot and bothered, don't you?"

"I love the look on your face when you're hot for me."

She arches a delicate brow. "You know where that kind of talk only gets you, don't you?"

"Why do you think I do it?"

She laughs and then rubs her nose against mine. She lowers her lips to mine giving me a sweet kiss.

America shifts on to her side, propping her head on her hand. "Though, it isn't fair you sprung this surprise on me. I didn't have a chance to give you your gift."

"My gift is right here in my arms," I say, grabbing her and kissing her neck. She squirms, laughing as my lips tickle her.

"Seriously. You should have warned me."

"And ruin my plans? No. I don't think so. Which reminds me..." I say, sitting up under the sheets and reaching behind me to the corner of the tent. America is eyeing me curiously as I dig under the cushions. _There it is._ I fight back a smile. "Close your eyes."

She begins to protest as she sits up. "Maxon...we..."

"Indulge me, darling," I cut her off. "Come on. Close those beautiful eyes."

She smiles, her cheeks reddening. I love the fact that I can still induce such a reaction from her. "Okay...but just because you said my eyes are beautiful."

Once her eyes fall close, I move to cradle her to me from behind. She sits between my thighs, her naked back is pressed against my chest as she tucks the sheet under her arms, modestly covering her bosom. Resting my chin on her bare shoulder, "Merry Christmas," I whisper.

I place a box, the size of the cup of her palm in her hand. America opens her eyes immediately, staring at the box. She looks at me over her shoulder and is about to protest but again, I don't give her the chance. My hands feel clammy and my heart is pounding in my chest. I'm trying to hide my nervousness as best I can. I'm only hoping she really likes it.

"Go on. Open it."

She looks at me and is about to say something but I wink at her and she rolls her eyes effectively saying, she gives up.

"My God...look! My hands are shaking," she giggles. "What have you done now?"

She opens the black velvet box.

An audible gasp and a hand flies to cover her mouth. She turns her body halfway to me, shock clearly on her face.

"Maxon! Where...where did you find these?" Her eyes are wide with recognition. She turns her attention back to the set of earrings and bracelet, the pieces she had selflessly given away during the Convicting to save a poor man's life.

"I can't take all of the credit. Stavros was the one who tracked them down."

"How? I mean...where did he find them? They weren't among your father's things..." America's words fade. Her eyes drop to the emerald and sapphire pieces in the black velvet box and quickly return to mine inquisitively.

I confirm. "No. They weren't found with my father's things. According to Stavros it seems that that evening right after the Convicting, my father charged one of his attendants to take them back to the royal jewelers. He wanted no remnants of what he viewed as a blatant act of defiance to his rule. So, they were brought down to be...dismantled, I suppose. But it seems that not everyone shared my father's view on things. Big surprise there, huh? Apparently, those pieces became a symbol of something greater, America. A symbol of change and reform. Bortles, the jeweler that was ordered to carry out the task couldn't bring himself to destroy something so significant. He felt it would be an injustice to do so. After all, he said it was the price paid for a man's life and in retrospect...freedom from injustice..."

"You spoke with him?" she asks, running her fingers over the earrings.

"I did." I shift uncomfortably, thinking of how thrilled Bortles was when I walked into his workshop. The respect and hope I saw reflected in his eyes when he looked at me; possibly pinning his dreams of better things ahead on me; that I had the ability to make Illéa better not just for a privileged few but for all peoples. His emotions so raw they made me feel unworthy.

"But...Did he come forward on his own?" She asks tentatively.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy for him to do so. An act of theft against the Royal Crown would keep anyone at bay no matter how good the intentions of such an action were."

"Oh no, Maxon! Certainly this poor man was not punished, was he?"

Although many reforms have been instituted, theft is still a crime. But I am king now and as we had done in the case of Marlee and Carter granting them a pardon, there is much good we have the power to continue to do.

I kiss her temple. "Of course not. More like a reward was in order." I wrap my arms around her. "America...you've never stopped amazing me, darling."

"What do you mean?" Our eyes meet. She turns a shoulder into my chest.

"I knew you were special. From the first moment I saw you in the garden that night. But I never knew how special you were to so many others. That evening, when you gave away what some would've never been able to part with, it _was_ incredible. Your gesture had such an impact on the nation and obviously not just on the subjects living outside the palace. When Stavros narrowed down the list of jewelers on duty the morning that followed the Convicting, Bortles came forward ready to face the consequences, ready to accept his fate. But regardless of that, he said these pieces needed to go back to their rightful owner when the time was right...and because, you, my darling...had given them hope."

"Maxon...I...I don't know...what to say..." Her eyes glisten with tears. "I can't accept these."

Her expression was a mixture of shock and honor. Her eyes fall again to the velvet box in her hand.

"You must." I smile. "Look at me, America." Her lashes are dotted with tears. "Is not about the jewelry, darling, it's about you." I tuck her hair behind an ear. "Look how far we've come already. In large part because of you."

"Because of us."

I smile. "Come. Let's see how this rests." I take the bracelet from the box and put in on her slim wrist.

"It's even more beautiful than I remember." Her voice is a soft whisper.

I tilt her chin up with a finger and see a tear running down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. "No jewel could replace you." And then I kiss her.

She begins to sob more in earnest.

"Yes." Her teary eyes look at me.

"What?" I look back at her, confused.

"Do you remember after the Convicting? Your father asked if I was prepared to marry you." I stiffen at the memory of those months of uncertainty and beauty and anguish. America reaches up and tilts my head towards hers. "My answer is, yes. I figured since I didn't do it right the first time..." she smiles, "Yes, Maxon, I love you and I'd be honored to be your wife."

Before I can say anything, her lips press against mine as her body turns, the hand of her jeweled wrist slipping into my hair. The kiss is deep and searching. I pull her down, over me back on our makeshift bed. I'm shrouded in a mist of sensual kissing and intimate caresses.

America maneuvers her body over mine, the tips of her breasts as they brush over my skin send tingles and shivers to every nerve I possess. She ventures lower kissing my stomach and each thigh and soon I find myself clutching the pillow under my hands, my body welcoming the stream of pleasure her mouth is giving me. I close my eyes as I am swathed in the warmth of her mouth. I feel a breath hitch and my eyes flash open, staring at the canvas roof of our lover's tent. But that sight isn't as interesting as the one between my legs. I lift up on my elbows enjoying her, watching her, my hand reaching for the back of her neck. My stomach tightens with her oral motions - her tongue and lips gliding over my hard dick and I'm unable to contain the sounds of pleasure as they escape my mouth.

My manhood is resting in her open palm as her tongue slides over the underside of my length one last time before she settles it gently down on my pelvis. I am hard and desperate. America doesn't speak her kisses follow the line of my abdomen up between my pecs and she straddles me as my mouth greets her throat and my kisses are as hard as I feel. She gasps, cupping my face in her hands. I fall back unto the pillows and grab her hips. And she knows what to do as she sinks over me, her wetness making entry effortless.

America's mouth is solidly fixed on mine but her hips are in constant motion, rising and falling over mine. She tears her mouth away, her arms fixed on each side of my head. Her sweet, silken walls caress me with each fluid movement as she rocks back and forth. My hands are on the cheeks of her ass each motion radiating through my palms. It's so damn erotic I can't hold back as my own upward thrusts begin to meet with her downward push. We clash over and over, harder and harder. My fingers dig into the softness of her flesh pushing her down harder onto my stiff manhood, hitting the back of her wall. I feel enveloped in blinding passion as we kiss and we touch and our bodies fuse together in rapture. And as we are lifted in a wave of wanton pleasure very soon she cries out in that familiar tone I know so well and I feel it...her orgasm conquers her– her walls tremble as she bathes me in liquid ecstasy. America collapses on top of me just as I hear myself growl, relief coursing from the depths below up through my shaft as I reach my own blinding release. I don't lessen my grip until the last of my release has found its way into her.

We look at each other– breathless. Her hair a beautiful mess, her lips swollen, her cheeks a rosy shade of pink. I bury my face in her neck, her red hair tickling my face. She laughs when I nip at the side of her neck. America looks down on me and kisses me softly, her fingers tracing my jaw.

My eye catches the glint of her bracelet. "I guess gifting you jewelry does pay dividends," I tease.

She smiles. "Merry Christmas, Maxon."

"Merry Christmas, America."

* * *

 **Hope all of you enjoyed!**

 **Readers, don't forget, if you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.**

 **If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the** ** _" Guidelines for Special Requests" _****posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".**

 **Thank you so much to EVERYONE who left a review or thought for Part II of _"Masquerade"_. I can't express how much I appreciate you and the fuel those reviews give me to keep me going! **

**Check out the "REVIEWS" section for my replies :)**

 _ **BEDTIME STORIES WILL RETURN IN 2017!**_


	8. All I Want

**Author's Notes:**

 **THIS "BEDTIME STORY" IS FOR ALL OF YOU ON SANTA'S "NAUGHTY" LIST!**

 **What happens when America sits on Santa's lap?**

 **This** ***BONUS* chapter has been brought to you from a suggestion by Baegels. I think we all should thank him or her for this wonderful one-shot suggestion!**

 ** _WARNING!_ For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All you naughty readers please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"All I Want"**_

 _ **(A Maxerica Christmas Story)**_

 _ **"All I want for Christmas is you." ~ Anonymous**_

 _ **~ Maxon**_

"I believe that was a grand success! Don't you think so, Maxon?"

I follow America into our bedroom, welcoming the peace and quiet around us as I close the door. It's been a long day.

I shed my jacket and toss it on the bed, my tie follows as America takes a seat on the chaise, slipping off her shoes.

I unbutton the collar of my shirt and then stretch my tired back. "I don't think I've ever held so many babies in my entire life. As a matter of fact, I've _never_ held that many babies in my entire life!" I groan with exhaustion and make my way to join her on the chaise where I plop my tired body next to her.

America smiles. "Here. Turn around," she says and resting a knee on the cushioned chaise, props herself behind me and begins rubbing my shoulders. Her fingers are like magic, quickly easing the tension and soreness in my muscles.

I let out another groan, this one filled with relief as stiffness begins to fade. "That feels great, darling."

She gives a little laugh. "It's well deserved. I thought you were wonderful. But you've always been wonderful with children. Just think of all the great training you're getting." Then she leans to whisper in my ear, wrapping her arms around me. "Because one day we'll have a brood of our own making."

I can't help the heat I feel crawling up my neck, flushing my face as she plants a kiss to my reddened cheek. But the heat isn't from her kiss. I'm glad my back's turned to her so she can't see the flash of alarm written on my face from the thought of having children. It's not that I don't have any desire for children. I want a house full of them but at the moment I'm happy being just the two of us.

"One day," I manage to smile, turning to face her. "But I'm not ready to share you with anyone else. Not yet..." I pull her head down gently and kiss her softly.

America kisses me back with a delicate tenderness, her hand cupping the side of my face and even in a tender kiss she ignites a wildfire in me. I pull her down unto my lap, hearing her give a little yelp which I silence immediately with my mouth. I tip her slightly as we kiss and her arms snake around my shoulders. I love these private, intimate moments as I cradle her body against mine and her slender fingers slip into the back of my hair, caressing me. My scalp tingles with pleasure at her touch.

"I've been waiting for one of those all day long," she murmurs against my mouth.

"I'm always happy to oblige."

"I do love you, Maxon," she says and I smile seeing my reflection in her blue eyes." She shifts to sit on my lap. "I feel so proud of you." Her fingers glide over the the row of buttons on my shirt and my heart skips several beats. Even in a simple touch my body, now so familiar with her, can't help but respond. "You've done so many remarkable things already. And you're making Illéa much better for it. I just felt such joy today seeing all of those children so happy, running around our gardens, laughing and enjoying themselves without a worry in the world; and to give parents with limited resources an opportunity to bring to their little ones a happy Christmas– This is what it's all about. Having the spirit of generosity and love for others. I've never felt such pride." Her eyes sparkle and her words touch me.

"Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just doesn't seem like it's enough, I mean. We have so much. And there are so many others, America…"

"I know. But we do what we can and we hope that the goodwill shown to them will be paid forward to others."

"That would be something my mother would've said."

"Yes, she would've. And I know she would've been proud of you too." She kisses the tip of my nose. "And I think she would agree how adorable you looked holding all of those babies."

"Ehhh..." I snap my fingers. "Piece of cake."

We share a laugh.

Having one hundred children running wild about the palace gardens was in no way a walk in the park but it was well worth the effort.

"Although, I personally think that next year, _you_ ," America pokes my chest with a gentle finger, "should be Santa."

I can't help my booming laughter. "Are you joking?"

"Why would I be?!"

"Huh?" I question quizzically. "Do I look _anything_ like Santa to you?"

"Well…no. I mean, Santa is old…"

"Mhmm..."

"And fat…and..."

"I'm not. Either. Old _or_ fat."

"Very true. You do have a valid point." She gives a little sigh and leans into my neck. "You, you on the other hand...are…" kiss, " _young,"_ kiss, kiss "and _muscular_ …" another kiss, "and sooo damn _hot_."

There's a heat simmering between us as it usually does when she kisses me like that. Actually, I'm already feeling fevered and a stirring in my loins. I pull back and give her a wicked smile. "But, on second thoughts, I could be _your_ Santa."

America gives me a crooked grin. I can see the wheels turning.

"So supposing you were my personal Santa, I mean just supposing..."

"Uh-huh...supposing..." I'm looking at her with an arched brow.

"Would I get to sit on your lap like this?" She moves, wiggling her backside and sits now with her bottom directly over my manhood. "And do I get to tell you if I've been a good girl or a naughty girl?" She asks with a sultry tone, her eyes lit with seduction. Her lashes flutter as she looks at me over her shoulder.

"And have you been a good girl?" I ask, sweeping her hair to one side. "Or naughty?" I hear her sigh as I brush my lips along her neck.

"Oh…I don't know, Santa. Some days I'm good but _most_ days, I'm really, really naughty."

I bite into my lower lip and decide to play along. "Well, if that's the case, I don't know if Santa has anything for you."

"Really? Oh no!" She pouts playfully, her shoulders slumping.

I whisper. "Naughty girls only get a lump of coal."

"Why Santa, what is this? I think I feel a different kind of lump…right here."

I feel the knot in my throat. My eyes are glued to America as she sensually rubs her bottom against me and I feel the immediate stiffness to my cock.

Looking over her shoulder at me she says, "I already know what I want for Christmas. It's big and long and oh sooo hard," she teases, swaying her bottom against me from side to side, "and makes me sing with so much pleasure whenever I ride it."

I feel shivers from my toes all the way to the crown of my head. I grab unto her hips hard as she grinds against me. "You _are_ a very naughty girl. I don't think you should get what you want."

"Oh no, Santa. Pleeeease. I mean, I've been a good girl too. All I want is..." She leans back and presses her mouth to the shell of my ear. Her words are naughty. Very.

I let out a loud growl at her words, taking hold of her jaw in my hand and clamping my mouth over hers, I kiss her, hard. Her response to my kiss triggers her already fired lust. Her tongue sweeps over mine with a fevered intensity so hot, I feel my fingers curl tightly into the soft sweater she wears, gripping the material covering her sides. The sound of us kissing and our breaths mixing makes my hands shake and I gather more of her top into my fists. The round hills of her bottom press insistently over my bulging member now fully protruding under the layer of the fabric of my pants. She gasps as my fingers find the edge of her cashmere sweater and quickly push it up and over her head. I toss it aside, returning my hands to the bare skin right under the line of her bra. I nip the tender area on the side of her neck. She's heaving and I can feel her breath catch as I unsnap the clasp in front with a couple fingers. The undergarment springs her release and her breasts stand erect, her nipples at attention. She's so damn sexy sitting on my lap in nothing but her undone red lacy bra and skirt that's now hiked up high over her thighs.

America leans back against me, her hands circle behind to slip into my hair. Her beautiful breasts are covered under my hands and I enjoy the full measure of them. I lick a couple of fingertips and stimulate her perky nipples and watch as they harden further responding in unison with the intake of her breath, her body writhing in pleasure. I feel a heightened sense of want feeling her so heated, her body squirming with need for me.

I slide a hand under her skirt, feeling the smooth skin of her inner thigh and pull leg to the outside of mine. There's a minor adjustment and she knows what I want. She repeats the movement to her other leg after gathering her skirt over her bottom, bunching it around her abdomen, giving me freedom to maneuver. Once she settles back down, I peek over her shoulder, down at the red lacy triangle covering that part of her I'm yearning to touch. I nibble her ear and feel her melt against me. And I'm touching her through the material of her underwear and the dampness of her desire has already seeped through. I moan against her ear letting her know how pleased I am at this discovery. She relinquishes herself to me. I slip a finger under the material of her panty and welcome the sensation of slickness and heat. I don't penetrate but instead venture to her pleasure button and she nearly jolts at the first touch. I hold on to her by the waist, fondling her tented tip, massaging her with careful deliberateness. America's sensual breaths encourage me further as I seek her pleasure and her head falls back against my shoulder. It's the most beautiful sound I've heard all day and her hips nudge against my touch telling me she loves what I'm doing.

I know she's enjoying this but I know she would enjoy it much better without the hindrance of clothing. And that is exactly what I tell her. She doesn't hesitate but stands before me shrugging off her bra. She tosses it at me and I smile, then fling it over to the side someplace. But I can't take my eyes off her as she continues her sinful striptease. Her hips wiggle out of her skirt as it drops to her feet. She steps out of it, filling my eyes with creamy thighs and red panties.

I don't even realize I'm squeezing my erection through my pants hoping to gain just a bit of control and ease my discomfort, my penis now straining painfully against the zipper. It proves useless and America notices.

"Now, how am I supposed to get what I asked for it you're still fully dressed? I don't think you understand how naughty I've been, Santa."

"I have an inkling that you're about to show me."

She bites her bottom lip and closes the gap between us. My heart is thumping like a rabbit's as America drops to her knees.

"Now...let's see what sorts of gifts you have hidden under all of these clothes just for me."

My shirt is the first article to fall from my body, as America's lips and tongue dance against my own. There's a certain passion laden in this kiss. It's intimate and lustful all at once. It blows my mind!

I bury my nose into her hair, a hand fixed on the back of her head once her lips wrap around my pebbled nipple. She brushes her tongue over it and repeats the same action on the other. I feel the sudden tug on my belt. Her fingers begin to work at it, the buckle jingling as she unstraps it. She makes quick work of the button of my trousers and I can't tear my eyes away as the teeth of my zipper comes undone.

I see the storm in her eyes as she looks up at me. She rubs her hand fully against my erection saying, "Mmmm...that lump feels just the way I like it. And I deserve every inch of it." I lift my hips at her direction and my pants are soon down at my ankles. I'm in my black boxers and the fabric does nothing to hide my desire. Her fingers caress my erection through my underwear. "Its so hard." I grab her shoulder when she presses the side of her mouth to my manhood and lays several kisses over my length, tugging on my underwear with her teeth. I almost beg her to stop torturing me and I'm glad when she says, "I think I'll unwrap my gift now."

With a knowledge she's come to have she reaches inside my boxers taking hold of my very engorged cock. I groan feeling the tip of her tongue, wet against my head. I squeeze her shoulders tighter as she takes the full tip of my penis into her mouth.

"Good God," I hear myself say through a very ragged breath.

America's mouth is eager and she doesn't disappoint. She takes me deep in to her throat, making me rake a hand through my hair, "Damn, that feels good," I murmur and slowly, she releases me. She takes me again. Her lips glide effortlessly over my rigidness and with each bobbing stroke my fingers knot tighter in her red hair. I watch her as she pleasures me and she's a beautiful vision to behold. Our eyes meet as she gives me a languid lick from my base to my tip. I can't help the unsteady breath she's managed to draw from me.

"Now..." she says with a slow exhale, "Do I get to sit on Santa's lap?"

I swiftly kick off my shoes and she rids me of my socks and I eagerly shed my pants and boxers with her help.

"Oh my God. Look at you," she moans at my nakedness and licks her lips. Her palms lay flat against my thighs moving slowly up to take hold of my hard dick. She holds it, almost worshipfully, and starts to stroke me gently north and south with both hands.

"Come here," I tell her, my hands on her elbows urging her to stand. America's face is flushed with desire as her eyes lock with mine. "Ready to try on the gift you wanted from Santa, huh?" I settle my hands on her hips, guiding her over me. Her legs are spread on either sides of my thighs as she climbs on to the chaise, her knees pressing into the cushion. I clearly see the moisture of her desire and her need to be filled. My mouth waters.

"I can't wait to feel how it fits."

Reaching between her legs she takes hold of my manhood. Her voice is angelic as she moans on her descent. The heat of her body makes me call her name as she slowly sinks over me. I'm enthralled as I watch her body swallow me soon I disappear inside of her. I'm wrapped between walls of soft velvet and even the comparison doesn't do because I've never felt velvet that makes my body react like this– fevered and hungry.

America lets out a shaky breath as she sits flush against me. Not an inch has been spared.

"It fits perfect...sooo perfect," she utters breathlessly.

My hands are on her bottom aiding her movements over me; so fluid and yet so tight. Her legs work like the springs of our mattress when we're in the full, blinding throes of passion. With every rise and fall of her hips, she clamors her delight. She holds on to my shoulders, her back bowing, giving me the best view as I watch her devour me over and over again. My dick glistens between her honeyed folds. And I think, _That looks so fucking good._ I lick my thumb and press it against her clit.

"Yes! OH! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" she cries, her hips moving with purpose up an down. The pace changes to a circular dance and her pelvis draws me further inside the depth of her heat. I'm gripping the backs of her thighs tight, my fingers digging into her flesh. "Oh my God!" she cries out, leaning her body against mine. Her bosom bounces against my face and I take the opportunity to savor her ivory mounds fortunate to catch a nipple between my lips.

"Mmmm...Mmmm," she moans as we kiss deeply, her hands pressed on each side of my face, hips never stopping, never missing a beat. She gasps as she catches her breath from our heated, searching kiss. I can't help to feel how damn lucky I am to have a wife as hot and sexual as she is. I can describe her accurately as a dynamo as she continues riding me feverishly, feeding on me as one that has been starved and doesn't seek to stop until she's fully satisfied. And that is exactly what I want to give her.

I adjust so that I'm pushing into her with a steady series of upward thrusts. The sound of our bodies clashing, thundering against the other echoes around us as I pull her down harder over me. America sits upright now, her head falls back and I see her bite her lower lip. Her beautifully tipped breasts bounce repeatedly and she cries for me, "Maxon! Maxon! Maxon!"

The telling sign of orgasm is clearly written on her face as her brow knits together and her mouth is open ready to announce she's reached her breaking point.

And then...she shatters.

Her body stiffens. She grabs hold of the back of the chaise and her hips bear down on me, her thighs quaking over mine. "Ohhhh...myyyyy...God!" America falls forward, her hands gripping my hair in her fists. She bears down again, and grunts her walls rippling over my manhood. I join with a loud groan of my own, releasing the storm wreaking havoc in my body like bolts of white lightning into her. My fingers sink into the flesh of her ass, gripping her until the storm passes and the calm of my body begins settling in.

America's body collapses, limply covering mine; legs and arms lifeless, her face resting on my shoulder.

She's panting hard against my neck. "I never...I never knew sitting on Santa's lap could feel this good. Sure beats a sleigh ride any day."

"And you don't need to wait for Christmas to come."

She raises her head and looks at me with a sideways smile. "Somehow you made that sound really...dirty."

I laugh. "You are a naughty girl, aren't you?"

"Does that mean I get to come on your lap again?"

"Is that what you want?"

"All I want is you."

* * *

 **Hope all of you naughty readers out there enjoyed! Don't forget to post a review!**

 **Thank you so much to EVERYONE who left a review for _"Because of You"_. **

**I will reply to your reviews when I get back from my vacation!**

 **If you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.**

 **If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the** ** _" Guidelines for Special Requests" _****posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".**

 _ **BEDTIME STORIES WILL RETURN IN 2017!**_


	9. All In a Day's Workout

**Author's Notes:**

 **Maxon has been working out with the guards. What is America's reaction when she sees her beloved in action?**

 **This was a suggested story line by supergirls2008.**

 ** _WARNING!_ For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"All In a Day's Workout"**_

 **Take me into your arms**

 **Let your body fall into mine**

 **Feed me with your skin**

 **And speak to me**

 **Penetrate my mind**

 **Then move with me**

 **Until your sweat fills my every pore**

 **Make me become**

 **Your flesh**

 **Your mind**

 **Your every thought**

 **~ Ana Sabota ~**

 _ **~ America**_

"...And it's not up for debate."

"But…"

"Not this time, America."

"You can't just...stop!"

Maxon cocked his brow not even seemingly a bit bothered by my protest. Instead, he looked at me with piercing eyes. "Now…do as I ask, sweetheart. I will see you as soon as I'm done here."

"I just..."

"America. Now."

Hearing the authority in Maxon's voice, I blinked. My body reacted in a way that it never had. What was happening?

And before I realized I was headed upstairs.

* * *

 _ **Earlier that morning…**_

"Why are you smiling?" Maxon asked as we laid naked in bed, an arm tucked behind his head, a glint in his eye. I was drawing languid circles on his bare chest.

"I don't know. Just admiring…you."

Slivers of morning sun were peeking through the drawn curtains. I always loved the morning hours when everything felt so new and alive.

His teasing smile broadened. "Like what you see?"

"Very much so." I leaned down and planted a soft, sultry kiss between his pecs. It's not as if we hadn't just finished making love. We had. But it was moments like these, the moments after that sent my mind into a state of absolute bliss.

And why shouldn't I be happy? I was in bed with my lover who had just made mad, passionate love to me. The thought alone of what he had been doing to me that had sent me pitching into several mind blowing orgasms sent tingling chills through my body.

I did look on in appreciation. _Much_ appreciation.

It has been a year since we were married and not only had we grown in our knowledge of pleasing one another but the transformation I noted in my husband's body left me feeling utterly fortunate. Out of his teens and now a twenty-year old, virile man, I couldn't help but notice the stronger, harder pectoral muscles my fingers dallied over or the hills of strength that adorned his arms– two powerful looking biceps that even in their impressive molds seemed to hold me with the greatest tenderness. And of course how could I not notice the ripple of abdominal muscles and that wicked, very wicked V cut that notched each side of his lower hips and led my now wandering eyes to that wonderful, masculine organ hidden under the sheets. I sighed, feeling an awakening between my legs.

"Can I talk you into sticking around a little longer?" I asked, running my lips over his collarbone.

His breath, for he had taken a very deep one, brushed the side of my face. I could feel the intake and outtake of each of Maxon's breath under my hand as it now rested just above his pelvic area. My fingertips brushed against the borderline of curly hair that, just with a slight movement further south, would grant access to that most intimate area and perhaps a boon along with it.

In his husky, morning voice he said, "I thought you were meeting Marlee for breakfast."

"There's been a change of plans." I whispered against his neck.

"Oh?"

"Mhmm..."

"And may I ask, what change of plans?" he said, trying to distract me. I wasn't falling for it.

"Nothing exciting. Seymour's coming to showcase the latest jeans fashions. He knows how much I love them..."

"That's nice."

"Maxon," I cooed in his ear. "Staaay."

"Sweetheart, I have to meet Markson. He's running the obstacle with his company this morning. And I promised I'd be there."

I looked up at Maxon with half lidded eyes. I bit my lower lip. "I won't keep you too long. What do you say?" I purred.

"Markson hates tardiness."

I liked the idea of Maxon working out with the guards and he in turn thought it was good morale for the guards to have their Commander in Chief take to the ropes so to speak right along with them. Of course, his workout routine had paid wonderful dividends for me too since I was definitely the beneficiary of all of his hard work and sweat.

"I'm sure Markson will forgive you."

"America…"

I'm wasn't listening any longer as my tongue traced the outline of his dark nipple, the tip running over the little perked nub. Evidently, I saw that more persuasion would be needed. I slipped my hand beneath the sheet and brushed my fingertips over Maxon's length. What I found was most delightful. "I believe, it's two against one."

His crooked grin made my insides quiver. It's a grin I've become very familiar with. The one that tells me, _'I won't say no if...'._

I threw the sheet back, deciding I needed to thoroughly convince my husband he could spare me a few additional minutes and as he moaned in sheer pleasure, my wet mouth wrapping wholly over his member, I knew, I knew…he would be just a little tardy for his scheduled appointment.

I didn't feel guilty about it.

* * *

 ** _~ In the Women's Room_**

Soon after my meeting with Seymour and sporting my new slim fit jeans and a cute cream colored peasant top, Mary and I opened the door to the Women's Room to a most interesting conversation.

"Oh…my…God…" Isn't he just divine?"

"What're you talking about? They're all divine," sighed Paige to the maid standing next to her as Mary and I paused at the entrance. They were so deeply engrossed by whatever they were looking at that they didn't realize they were no longer alone.

"Yes. But if I could only rake my hands over that body…"

"Whose body? How can you pick just one? They're all…delicious." I stifled a smile at Paige's reply. I believed I had a pretty good idea what these two were up to.

"Huh! There will be no raking of hands on anyone's body." Mary reprimanded alerting the two young women of our presence.

"Miss Mary!" Paige and her companion turned from the window. Two faces, turnip red, were looking at us now. And seeing that I was in their presence both clumsily curtsied after greeting me with a croak of "Your Majesty!" I gave the girls a telling smile.

"Now, what is all of this fuss about?" Mary asked, her brow cocked as she waited for a reply.

After glancing at each other as if having been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, Paige took it upon herself to answer. "We...we were...uh...nothing."

"That hardly looks like a guiltless face to me," she frowned.

"Oh, Mary. Leave them alone," I waved a hand and smiled as I neared the window. The girls parted as I joined them. Mary quickly dismissed Paige's companion who curtsied before she exited, leaving the three of us in the Women's Room. I craned my neck to look down at the scene that had them so distracted.

The guards were running drills. If the sight of shirtless, strapping young men didn't grab the attention of a now seventeen year-old girl or made her want to rake her hands over a totally fit masculine body then I certainly wouldn't be able to relate. But seeing that these two were enthralled by the sight below I could only smile in return.

"I can see why you girls were so...excited." I grinned.

Mary, having joined us, standing to my right, her eyes fixed on the guards as well, added, "Well...I do agree. They are rather fit for..."

"Watch it, Mary," I warned with a nudge of my elbow.

"I wasn't going to say anything...inappropriate."

I glanced at Mary from the corner of my eye. Mary wasn't as prudish as she'd liked Paige to believe but wishing to do her best to train the young woman the way she felt Anne had molded her, made her a little rigid with Paige sometimes I thought. But for now, seeing that I hadn't taken issue with the girls choice of entertainment, she chose to join as we watched the goings on below.

Wishing to make Paige feel more at ease I said, "You know Paige, I remember doing this very same thing during the Selection. Some of the girls would perch themselves on this very window and watch with trained interest as the guards worked out too."

"You did?!" she cried.

I smiled at her. "We did. _I_ did...once. There isn't any shame in admiring the human body. It is a wonderful work of art in my opinion." And at that moment I couldn't help but think about Maxon. His private collection of hard muscle was to me nothing but a masterpiece of masculine flesh artfully contrived for my pleasure. My heart fluttered. "And don't feel bad about gawking. It's only natural."

"Did Prince Maxon know? I mean...about you checking out the guards."

"Paige! Don't ask such questions!" scolded Mary.

"It's quite alright. Yes. I did tell him. He took it rather well now that I recall. But, it wasn't as if he'd proposed to me yet. And things were a little more complicated between us back then."

"Oh look! There he is now!" Paige pointed.

Maxon and Markson had come running around the bend, leading their group who now joined the one we had been watching. It was interesting to see the dynamics of the two companies. Whereas the first group's leaders along with a few guards who'd chosen not to go shirtless wore army green signifying their rank as "Bravo" company, Markson and Maxon wore black the color of the "Alpha" company– the elite of the guards. From the stories Maxon had shared with me, the two companies were in a constant state of competition. And it looked like today would be no different.

The groups intermingled briefly, separating in between some "friendly" verbal exchanges and shoving among a couple of the guards. Maxon had reassured me it was all in good, sportsman-like spirits but it looked as if this was serious business to me.

"Talk about an overflow of male testosterone," Mary quipped.

"Male what?" asked Paige, looking at Mary.

Said Mary, with a wave of a hand and a slight shake of her head, "Never mind."

Markson and his counterpart took center stage, their men standing behind them. Words were exchanged between the leaders. It felt as if I were watching that scene in _West Side Story_ between the Sharks and the Jets. Maxon, for his part never interfered with the leaders of any respective group. He liked to observe how they did their job without his input but he never backed away from participating. More words were exchanged between the two leaders who both hand their hands firmly set on their hips.

"What are they doing?" Mary asked, folding her arms. An inquisitive furl on her forehead.

"I don't know." I replied, shaking my head.

"Well, whatever it is," Mary observed, "your husband looks like he's going to be the one taking part in it."

And so it seemed. "What is he doing?!" I asked no one in particular. It appeared as if some sort of challenge was set to take place. Maxon had stepped forward, his tight black t-shirt clinging to his torso. I could see the bulk of his muscles straining under the fitted sleeves. He stood face to face with a guard from Bravo company and before I could blink, my husband was on the ground in...a push-up contest?! I gasped, making both Paige and Mary glance at me.

All of sudden the three of us were dead silent, our eyes glued to the action below. I wasn't sure if Mary or Paige were breathing because I sure wasn't.

We could hear the hoopla of shouts, deep male voices cheering on their participant, one who happened to be my husband! I had never seen Maxon do anything like this before as he pumped out one push-up after the next, Markson crouched next to him shouting at him as would a drill instructor. My heart felt like it pumped each push-up right along with Maxon. I bit down on my index finger, and heard myself shout, "Come on, babe!", startling Mary and Paige who looked at me but I ignored them. My heart was fierce in my chest and my gaze fixed on Maxon.

I wasn't sure how many push-ups Maxon had done but my trance was broken when Markson's group raised a resounding triumphant shout– high-fiveing each other and slapping each other on the back. I hadn't realized I had been clapping myself and bouncing on my toes, smiling from ear to ear. Maxon had jumped to his feet, gave a fist pump and turning to Markson they gave each other a guy hug, clearly having beat out his opponent who laid spent on the ground. The other guards in Markson's group crowded around Maxon, congratulating him on his victory.

The celebration was brief for it looked like another challenge was on its way. Two more guards took their stance but my eyes followed Maxon. Watching this side of him, so raw and intense triggered something inside of me.

I couldn't explain quite what happened to me but all of a sudden I felt very hot for my husband. I hoped Mary wouldn't notice.

"Well, that was unexpected." In her usual manner, Mary cocked a brow, shooting me a teasing look.

"Yes, it was."

* * *

 _ **~ Two hours later...**_

Maxon had been training privately with Markson for weeks. After their workout session with the guards they usually took to the weight room. Before today, I hadn't the slightest bit of interest in what his workout session involved. Now, curiosity pricked at me so, I made my way down to the training room. Fortunately for me, the glass doors to the weight room gave me a perfect vantage point. There was something lustful about watching Maxon lift weights that made me wild inside. The way his biceps flexed with the hand weights; the way he grunted when he bench pressed but when he took to the body bag, that's when I thought I'd really lose my mind. His hands were wrapped in tape. His blond hair thoroughly soaked from sweat, clung limply around his face. I could see his muscles working under the tight fit of his black, sweaty t-shirt as he struck the bag, Markson on the other side, holding it steady. All I wanted, more than anything, recalling the expression the girls had used earlier was to _rake my hands_ over that body of unadulterated manhood.

I watched with keen interest but couldn't wait for them to be done. It felt like an eternity had gone by but it was well worth it. I hadn't realized I was biting down on my lower lip as thoughts of what I was ready to do to Maxon swarmed my mind. I just wished I would've changed out of my jeans to give Maxon easier access to me. Well, nothing I could do about it now unless I wanted to miss this opportunity. My naughty thoughts came to a sudden halt as Markson headed to the door. For a second I thought about leaving the premises but I squashed the feeling like a bug opting to greet the guard once he had exited and who, upon catching sight of me, couldn't help his surprise.

After some brief friendly chatter, "Well, he's all yours," Markson smiled, adding I was free to enter if I wished. I bid him a good day. Once he was out of sight I grinned to myself pulling the stretchy neck of my peasant top so it hugged over my bare shoulders with high hopes the visual would help in my cause to entice Maxon. Then I slipped inside.

Maxon was busy setting the hand weights back on the rack. "Forget something?"

"Found something," I replied.

At first, Maxon's eyes flickered with disbelief. "America?" he said, and by that look in his eyes I knew he liked what he saw. Snapping out of his shock and setting the weights down he asked, "Sweetheart, what are you doing down here? Is everything alright?" He was at once in front of me, my hands in his, his eyes surveying my face for any hint of trouble.

"Yes. Everything is fine. I...I was just waiting for you to be all done." He was so close. The heat of his hands made me dizzy. I didn't understand what was happening to me. My chest was heaving and I tried to control my elevating heart rate. But images of Maxon in that push-up contest and the mere sight of him now in that tight t-shirt clinging to him like a second skin; the evidence of sweat and hard labor fanned those flames of desire building inside of me.

He gave me a curious look, followed by a grin. "Oh...alright." I had never set foot inside the weight room so I understood his puzzlement. "Well...I'm almost finished here. But...are you sure you're okay? You look a little flushed, darling. Are you coming down with something?" He asked, pressing the back of his hand on my forehead as if checking my temperature. His touch made my body heat rise even further.

"Oh." I pressed a hand to my cheek. "I feel fine," I lied through my labored breath.

He gave a small chuckle. "Okay but...maybe we should have Doctor Ashlar take a look..."

I lunged myself into his arms cutting off his words with a hungry kiss.

A surprised little huff escaped Maxon's lips as he stumbled backwards, grabbing on to my waist so we wouldn't fall down to the floor. "Woah..." he chuckled, immediately regaining his balance.

"God you made me so hot today. Watching you out there today with the guards," I whispered in his ear. My hands gripped his hair as my tongue ran along the side of his neck, tasting salt and sweat. He was delicious. I tugged on his ear with my teeth. "I want you, Maxon. "

"W...What? Now? Here?"

"Yes, Yes and YES!" I declared, against his lips. My fingers curled around the hem of his damp t-shirt. We stumbled back on to the weight bench and I perched myself on Maxon's lap, layering his face with kisses. "Just a quick one."

"Sweetheart..." he tried to speak but I quieted him with my mouth. I didn't want to hear any protest. His large hands were secure on my bottom. I cursed myself that I was wearing these damn jeans instead of a day dress. But it didn't stop me from doing what I was doing, pressing myself, not so lady-like over his length.

It took Maxon a moment but he succumbed and groaned against my mouth. He stood up with me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I felt as if my entire body was a star ready to go supernova. Before I knew it my back was pressed against a wall by the water cooler. Taking a peek over his shoulders the glass doors barely in sight– I imagined anyone could've walked in on us. But all my mind, all my body thought of was Maxon...Maxon...and only Maxon. Discovery was the last of my worries. My senses were dulled with desire as Maxon kissed me with a savage hunger and I wanted it. I wanted him to take me, to use all that strength bottled up in his body and to pour every lick of energy into mine.

"Damn it, America..." His words brushed over the shell of my ear and I whimpered. "You want me?" he asked, gruffly. I felt his strong, masculine form hard against me. His manly grip hard against the back of my thighs.

My heart nearly leaped out of my chest and I couldn't speak. I looked in his eyes instead, all manner of verbal reply had fled me. His eyes were dark and stormy. I wanted to dive head first into that storm. He clamped his mouth on the side of my neck, sucking on my pulse point. I gasped, gripping his shoulders. His gaze fell hard on me once again.

"Do. You. Want. Me?" he asked, more deliberately, his eyes piercing right through me.

I clutched his shoulders harder, pulling the thin t-shirt into my fingers. "Yes," I gasped in sheer desperation. "I want you, Maxon."

He grinned wickedly at me. I could barely suck in my next breath.

"No."

"What?" I breathed out in a whisper, using what bit of air I had left in my lungs. I couldn't have heard him right.

"No. You can't have me. I've spoiled you. Not this time."

He stepped back and unwrapped my legs from his waist. I could barely stand as my feet met the floor underneath.

"Are you serious?" He just looked at me. "Maxon?"

He pressed a hand on the wall by my head leaning into me and slid a gentle finger down the curve of my jaw. Was this my punishment for making him tardy this morning? "Now, listen carefully." His thumb brushed over my bottom lip. It sent wild shivers throughout my body. "I want you to go upstairs and wait for me. And when I get there, I want to see you on our bed...naked. That's what I want. And it's not up for debate."

"But..."

"Not this time, America."

"You can't just...stop!" I whisper-cried. My body trembled and my head was spinning. Maxon had always let me have my way. He was joking. Cruelly.

"Now…do as I ask, sweetheart. I will see you as soon as I'm done here."

"I just..."

"America. Now."

The authority in his tone in which he'd said my name made my knees knock. He wasn't joking. I swallowed and was ready to scream but he arched a brow as if to say, I better be on my way before he would regret anything he might say or do.

I unhinged myself off the wall, my beating heart in my throat, my mind reeling...

* * *

 ** _~ In the Royal Suite..._**

As I peeled my jeans off, a sense of excitement fluttered in the pit of my stomach. The look in Maxon's eyes was nothing but mesmerizing. And that look mingled with the feel of his body as he had me pressed against that wall, and the images of muscle and masculinity that had not only filled my eyes but every one of my other senses pitched my excitement even further.

Maxon was not one to be so commanding. Not that he didn't voice his own desires when we made love, he had his favored positions, of course. But that fired look in his eyes and the authority in his tone made me want to surrender to every one of his wishes.

I undressed quickly and perched myself on our massive bed. I hoped he wouldn't be long. Every nerve in my body sang with anticipation. I could almost feel his kisses, his hands, his breath caressing my fevered skin and those thoughts made the sweet spot between my legs throb and my thighs tremble.

It wasn't long before I heard the door and Maxon appeared.

He wore a wicked grin as his eyes took in my naked form, perched on my knees in the middle of our bed. Instincts gladly took over as I wickedly thought I should make him suffer for making me wait. I gathered my breasts in my hands wishing to tease him in return. My hands traveled over my body, showcasing my flat stomach, curved hips and slim upper thighs. It worked. I liked the reaction I got when he bit down hard on his lower lip. He tore his shirt off in one swoop. I greedily took in the measure of his chiseled torso. His hard chest, perfect abs that narrowed down into a set of strong hips and thighs. What the hell! Who was I kidding? I wanted him to ravish me. He approached, not saying a word. Maxon stood at the edge of the bed undoing the button of his camis followed by his zipper. My mouth watered. I didn't tear my gaze from his hands at work on his pants and the obvious protrusion hidden behind. The fly of his pants now lay open giving me a teasing glimpse of his black boxers.

"Come here." His voice was thick with desire.

I obeyed, the mattress giving way under my knees. He waited until the tips of my perked nipples brushed against his chest before he clamped his hand behind my neck, crushing his mouth against mine. The kiss was intense, deep, making my toes curl. Maxon's hands drifted over my shoulders, down my arms until they found purchase on the naked hills of my bare bottom. He moaned as he squeezed my ass, his kisses assaulted my throat as I tilted my head back to give him more of me to kiss. God, I loved his kisses!

My body was lit like a torch and when Maxon dipped a hand between my legs feeling the undeniable evidence of my desire, he couldn't help but look down at his hand. His masculine digits dove between my folds, my clit wedged between two of his fingers. I had to hold on to his shoulders so I wouldn't tip over– the sensation from that touch seizing me. I was on the very cusps of an orgasm when he lifted his eyes to mine, his lips slightly parted. He was brimming with want and I was the one causing it.

"You feel so damn perfect," he told me. The fire in the pit of my stomach blazed and I wanted more, needed more. He withdrew his fingers much to my dismay and sucked them off. I quivered.

He pulled me to him until our bodies were plastered together. "I wanted to fuck you against that wall," he whispered in my ear. "You don't understand how much I wanted to."

I was like a boneless ragdoll in his hands. His words made that part of me screaming for him to fill me completely ripple with a crying need.

"W-Why," I swallowed, "didn't you?"

His eyes were glued to mine now as he gently brushed a few strands of my hair from my face. "Because I want to hear you, darling. I want to listen to every sound from that pretty mouth," he said, running his thumb over my lips "and I don't want you holding back when I make you shout my name."

And with no further words he lifted me by the back of thighs. I instinctively wrapped my legs about his waist and he turned in the direction of our bathroom. I didn't question what he had in mind though I had a very good idea.

After setting me down on the tiled floor of our immense bathroom, Maxon moved to turn on the shower and made quick work of his boots and socks followed by his pants and boxers. I appreciated the private strip show I was getting. By the time he was through, the mirrors had fogged as steam built around us. It felt as if I were in the middle of some mystical forest. Maxon took hold of my hand and we stepped into the slate walled shower.

My mind was as fogged as the blanket of steam surrounding me. Maxon kissed me, softly at first, cupping my face with his hands and then his kiss turned hungrier and demanding. I didn't even realize when he had lifted me or if I had jumped but my feet instead of touching the wet floor beneath me, were now crossed behind his lower back. Feeling muscle like granite under my hands, my arms snaked around Maxon's broad shoulders. Water began to gently rain between us, soaking my hair, soaking his, my slender fingers slipping into his blonde mane. Maxon's hands cupped both round hills of my ass and I writhed against him my body speaking in that primal language, telling him what I wished. And before my next breath Maxon turned away from the water. I was up against a wall.

I heard myself moan rather loudly when Maxon penetrated me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as his manhood, so stiff repeatedly bored into me. With no visible outline of the world beyond, I felt as if I were in a dream. I was being carried away to a wondrous place. My body tingled and I felt weightless. I held on to Maxon. He was the only reality I cared to entertain. There was nothing else, no existence beyond this wall of fog. And I wanted to be lost in it forever.

Feeling the strength in Maxon's body solid against my own, I panted and moaned at his delivery and cursed in between his deliberate thrusts which were now so deep and so hard. His groans of pleasure continuously fanned this incessant fire consuming me. And I smiled. I smiled, thrilling in my ecstasy. His mouth was all over me including the tender tips of my nipples which were not spared from his attention. Not only was his dick filling me quite nicely but naughty words filled my ears too as he spoke of fucking me.

And that's when it happened. The combination of words and his body bored inside of mine, unraveled me and that dam within me burst. "MAAAXON!" I shouted. My hands flung backwards to grip against the slippery wall but I found it most inadequate as my palms slid. Quickly taking hold of Maxon I held on to him tight, his name a prayer on my lips.

"Maxon...Maxon...I love you, Maxon."

In the midst of my orgasm, the broad shoulders under me tensed and those hips that had me pinned against the wall stiffened, soon followed a series of groans. I too loved to hear Maxon as he reached his climax, his life's essence releasing into me...

We were both breathless and remained in that position, foreheads pressed, eyes glued to the other, wrapped up in the love we had just shared.

"How do you manage to please me so?" I asked.

He grinned. "All in a day's workout."

We shared a quiet laugh as the steam began to lift. I sighed and lost myself once again in the tender sweep of his tongue against mine.

Maxon's body was indeed a wonderful work of art, a body I would enjoy for the rest of my days but it was the man housed in that body that I had fallen in love with. And it was _that_ man that would make each day we shared so unique and undeniably– priceless.

* * *

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	10. Daddy's Home

**Author's Notes:**

 **Maxon has to go away on palace business. How will America help him to cope while they are apart? What sort of _"Welcome Home"_ will he receive?**

 **This was a suggested story line by Your biggest fan.**

 ** _WARNING!_ For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Daddy's Home"**_

 _ **I lay in lonely sheets missing the taste of little laughs in midnight hours,**_

 _ **craving the touch of familiar fingertips,**_

 _ **while silence replaces the sigh of my name.**_

 _ **The moon seems so far tonight.**_

 _ **~ Liv Armelle**_

 _ **~ Maxon**_

"I can't believe you'll be gone for two whole weeks!"

"I'm not looking forward to it either darling," I say, taking a seat next to America on our bed. I take her hand and kiss it. Considering my departure three months ago seemed like an eternity away. How the hell did it get here so quickly? America and I had never been separated for more than a couple of days and that was plenty to drive me insane. She usually had been able to accompany me on some shorter trips but since this scheduled visit to New Asia fell right smack dab in the middle of all the planning for the upcoming Summer Bazaar, America could see no way of getting away. Besides, seeking a peace agreement with New Asia hadn't been a walk in the park. After hours of phone calls, compromises document drafts and political red tape, we were two signatures away. The New Asian regime, let's just say, hadn't quite trusted the intentions of the Illéan monarchy. I couldn't blame them. Not after all the damage caused by my father. But we wanted an alliance and they needed one. It had been hard work but the end result would be worth it.

"What am I supposed to do without you, Maxon...for two entire weeks?! I can't bear the thought," she sulks and rests her head on my shoulder.

I grin and nuzzle her neck pushing aside my thoughts regarding New Asia, the peace agreement and everything else I didn't care to think about at this moment. With a couple of hours left before I leave for the Royal airstrip all I wish to do is concentrate on my wife. "Maybe you'll finally get some rest without me here," I tease.

"If you're referring to your ravenous appetite for me, I think I'll miss you just as much for breakfast as you'll miss me for dessert." America tilts her face upward, kissing me in that seductive way that makes my spine tingle and sends blood rushing to my appendage which instantaneously responds. "I think…" she purrs, undoing my tie, "you deserve a double portion." She draws on my bottom lip, sucking softly. I groan. "How else will you survive an entire fourteen days without savoring me?"

"I will be quite deprived...and rather...," I growl into her kiss and press her back unto the bed. It doesn't take long before our clothes are scattered on the floor and we are making lustful, passionate love. I thread my fingers between hers, push her arms above her head so she can feel the impact of my thrusts, deep and hard…very hard. America's sexual cries are like an angel's trumpet and she doesn't hold them back. I greedily want more. But, as I watch her pretty face draped in bliss...those big, blue eyes dilated, the dotted shades of pink on her ivory cheeks, lips swollen and mouth opened as she takes me– I record each detail. Memories of her smile, her lips, her scent will be with me; a constant reminder that I must hurry back home. And when I fall asleep apart from her, these are the memories I will conjure and I will make love to her just like this when she comes to visit me in my dreams...

* * *

"Yes, darling, the flight has been uneventful so far. We'll be touching down in an hour."

I smile, listening to America on the other side of the phone. We have been in the air for close to 16 hours and I was ready to touch land knowing that once I did that, it would be the first step on my way back home.

"Yes. I will tell her," I chuckle. "I won't forget."

My smile fades and my heart just aches. "I miss you too, sweetheart." I close my eyes, leaning my head against the headrest of my seat. The image of America's face blooms crystal clear in my mind.

"I love you too...with all of my heart." I take an aching breath. "I'll call you soon."

And with that I end the call on my cell, watching as her beautiful contact picture fades to the wallpaper one I had chosen of her on our honeymoon– sitting on a boulder in front of a waterfall, barefoot and laughing. I had taken it myself. I sigh. God, I miss her.

I stand from my seat. Stavros is fast asleep in one of the leather seats next to a window, a copy of _"Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles"_ lies open on his chest. I grin, musing he must be off on a journey solving some crime mystery in his dreams– the constant click of a keyboard in the background doesn't seem to stir a limb or even the twitch of an eyelid.

Opting to leave Stavros alone, I move towards the sound of the clicking keyboard just a few seats ahead. No need to wake the man. I slide into the leather seat across a deeply concentrated brow. A set of dark, almond shaped eyes rimmed by dark frames glances up at me. She doesn't speak as she gnaws on her lips with her front teeth.

"How can you work this much? You haven't stopped since we took flight. Don't you ever get tired?" I ask, breaking the silence. She keeps with her task, unflinching, unyielding.

"Nope. Keeps the mind busy and my senses alert. It's the way we are wired, you know." The corner of her mouth quirks up into a tiny smile.

"I appreciate your work ethic, Elise. But you really need to take a break."

"I can't. There's still so much to do before our meeting with the President of New Asia tomorrow."

"Elise. Please. You're making _me_ anxious."

With a huff, she reluctantly stops typing, the clickety-clack of the keys coming to an abrupt halt. "Fine. Your Majesty." Her teasing retort follows a widening smile.

"Thank you. I can't have my ambassador brain dead before we actually reach our destination, now can I?"

Elise bites her bottom lip as she closes her laptop. Her brow knits with a hint of a frown. She looks pensive and I worry that I may have asked too much of her so soon. Even with her ties to New Asia there is no guarantee I'll be successful. New Asia could still reject our terms.

"I want to thank you again, Your Majesty..."

Elise hasn't changed much. Even after being hurled into the spotlight as one of _The Elite_ and not winning my heart or the crown, she remained...Elise. All propriety and rigidly duty bound.

"Maxon. Call me Maxon, please. I hate these formalities in informal settings."

"I won't address you by your given name, Your Majesty. It's highly improper."

I laugh. "I order you to."

"Still...my family would be mortified."

I look around. "I don't see your family here."

She only rolls her eyes, relaxing a fraction. "You're much too gracious...Maxon."

I smile at the sound of my name. "That's better."

"As I was saying..." she continues, "I want to thank you again for this opportunity. My family is highly honored that you'd chosen me to mediate this historic event between Illéa and New Asia."

"I couldn't have chosen a better person, I don't think."

"Some may seem to differ on that."

"Well, I think you're more than qualified. And besides, my opinion is the one that truly counts."

She inclines her head then looks at me. "Thank you...for your confidence in me."

"I wouldn't give it if I didn't have it." She didn't say anything, though there seemed to be a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Oh! Before I forget, America sends her love."

She smiles, and with a hand over her heart, inclines her head once more saying, "And I equally return it." Our eyes meet and she's looking at me, thoughtful. "You look happy...Maxon."

I smile in spite of myself. "I am happy, Elise."

Elise takes a breath, says, "You made the right choice in my opinion. America was the right one for you. I knew it all along." Her eyes drop to her small hands folded neatly over her laptop.

"Was it that obvious?"

"It was. Though at first, I refused to believe it." Our eyes meet. "I wanted a crown, Maxon. I wanted the responsibilities. I wasn't afraid of that. But I didn't love you. I wouldn't have married you because I loved you."

Her words are spoken factually without a hint of resentment or regret. I knew her words were true. Elise and I were on two different spectrums. She would've been an obedient wife. But that's not what I wanted.

"I would have made you a good wife but looking at you now..." she pauses, "we...we wouldn't have worked. Duty to my country would come first, perhaps if I were lucky enough, love might follow."

I never expected Elise would be so forthright with her feelings especially after she refused our wedding invitation. She hadn't stepped foot back in the palace not until I summoned her to become my ambassador to New Asia. I was glad she came to meet with me then, albeit on a very professional level.

"You'll find the right person for you, Elise."

"Maybe. But until the next prince charming comes waltzing into my life, I've worked to do."

With a pointed look she opens her laptop resuming the sounds of the clicking keys.

I smile turning to look out at the dark canopy of night. The sounds of the keyboard, the quiet humming of the jet fade into the background.

I think about home. I think about America. I think about how much I love her and I think I am a very lucky man.

* * *

We landed safely in New Asia. I woke up the following day alone in a guest suite at the President's palace. The familiar scent of vanilla that greets me every morning is absent replaced by the sterile scent of freshly laundered linens. The soft feminine hand that crawls up my neck and pulls my head against a cushion of soft lips in a _'Good morning'_ kiss is a memory I yearn to relive. I stare longingly at the ceiling.

America. Her name, a constant in my thoughts.

Immediately turning to the nightstand, I pick up my cell wondering what time it is.

There is a message:

 _'"Thinking of you my love. I'll be watching tonight. You'll do great. I'm so proud of you. I love you."' ~_ _America_

The message ended with a row of hearts. I smile.

I reply:

 _"Missed holding you in my arms last night. This room is quite big and empty without you. I miss the smell of you hair. Wish you were here. Thank you for everything. I love you, my darling."_ – _Maxon_

The highly anticipated meeting with the New Asian President is in a few hours. I carry the weight of my nation on my shoulders but there is one person that makes my load feel lighter. She is the one I carry with me in my heart. And as long as she is with me there is no fear I can't overcome.

We meet behind closed doors and Elise doesn't disappoint me as she outlines the measures of the peace agreement translating for each side. Although Illéa wouldn't shoulder the absolute blame for the mockery the war had been, both sides have agreed that a minor trade disagreement had been the root cause for the escalating tensions that led to the loss of so many lives. My father had manipulated the system for his own agenda but taking full responsibility would've left me vulnerable. This agreement was a win for both sides. The trade routes would be open again and the embargo against New Asia lifted. In turn, New Asia would freely share their advancements in new technology for the benefit of my people.

We sign the agreement in the palatial Presidential office before a mass congregation of cameras, photographers and newspapers from every nation. It was being broadcast live to Illéa and my thoughts shifted to my darling America. She was proud of me and my heart burst with pride.

The day wouldn't slow down after the signing. We leave the Presidential palace in a motorcade to meet with various representatives and politicians at a luncheon where I would give a speech. The streets were lined with cheering, hopeful faces and well wishers waving white handkerchiefs and tiny flags representative of both nations. Of course, not everyone had laid out the welcome mat. Many among the crowd held signs of protest but I couldn't let those bother me. I had done the right thing.

After the luncheon we are headed back to the palace for a brief respite. Tonight, there is black tie affair planned in my honor where the new alliance between our two countries will also be celebrated. As I sit in the limo across from Stavros and Elise watching as they skim through various documents between them, making notations and exchanging opinions, my cell buzzes against my chest. I pull it out from the left pocket inside my suit jacket.

A message:

 _'You are the most amazing man I've ever known. Illéa stands taller and stronger tonight. I am so proud to be your wife. I think you deserve some very special treatment when you get back home. Can't wait to get my hands on you...' ~America_

This message ended with a row of kisses. And there was an attachment. A rush of heat flares my face.

"Is everything all right, Your Majesty?" Stavros asks, looking at me over the top of his spectacles. Damn his eagle eyes!

"Yes...just," I clear my throat. "Just a message from America. She said she watched the whole thing on TV."

He acknowledges with a nod. To his credit he doesn't inquire further and returns his attention back to the papers in his hand.

Dropping my eyes back on the selfie of America, a head to shoulder shot, she is sitting back against the headboard of our bed, her white nightgown hanging off one shoulder, her lips softly relaxed with the tip of her index finger wedged in between. Her hair is loose and her blue eyes, two pools of seduction were looking straight at me . What I wouldn't do to kiss that mouth right now.

I almost drop the phone as it buzzes again.

Message:

 _'And this one to let you know what I'm thinking about right at this very second...' ~America_

My mouth is dry. I bite the inside of my cheek so I wouldn't give anything away. It's another head to shoulder shot. This time her head is slightly tilted back, eyes closed and her lips are tightly wrapped around her middle finger.

My heart is slamming in my chest and the limo suddenly feels not private enough and way too warm. I tug at my collar which now feels too tight and let out a very slow breath.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

* * *

"What?! How much?!"

Elise looks at me stone faced. "That's the price, Your Majesty."

" _A hundred_?" I was being robbed...by a twelve year old girl! I look at Elise with a plea.

"She won't part with it for less."

"It's costume jewelry for crying out loud not the royal gems!" I hiss under my breath trying to avoid a scene as a few shoppers around us stretch their necks and cast prying looks in our direction.

We are in one of the most popular New Asian market places. I remembered the exact location of this particular shop. I remembered entering, browsing the various items on display. That's when I saw the bracelet behind the glass case and recalled the smiling face of the shop owner as he handed me the piece. I remembered feeling the smoothness of the stones between my fingers, picturing myself slipping it on her dainty wrist, how it would look on her. There was one particular girl I couldn't get out of my mind and I bought it for her. It was the only gift I had purchased on that trip.

The girl spoke to Elise gesturing at me, a frown grooved in her brow. I wished I had an inkling of what she was saying. My own skill at the native tongue was not the best to say the least. After the little mercenary was finished I look at Elise.

"She understands that you wish to purchase the piece, Your Majesty and since these are now out of production, she feels her price is more than fair."

"Does she know who I am?" I ask, scowling back at the girl who mirrors the exact same look etched on my face.

Elise smiles. "She does and that is why she thinks she's actually giving you a bargain."

"A bar..." I stop myself, yanking out my wallet from the inside pocket of my jacket. I look at the necklace dangling around her neck. It's the match to the bracelet I bought for America on my last trip to New Asia with my father...back when my feelings for America were real and complicated and frustrating and thrilling all at the same time.

I pull out the bills and hand it over to the little extortioner. She gives me a wry smirk, a glint of satisfaction in her dark eyes. Taking the bills and stuffing them in the front pocket of her jeans, she takes off the necklace and hands it to me. A string of smooth beads pools in the palm of my hand. I restrain my own smile of satisfaction. Sure, I had overpaid, ten times over but having the necklace in my possession made the amount not seem quite enough now.

I drop the necklace inside one of the pockets of my suit jacket.

The girl presses her palms together and gives a courteous bow, thanking me. At least I understood that much. She looks up at Elise who listens as she speaks and then lifts her eyes to me.

"She would like to know if she could help you with anything else?"

I huff. "Thank you but no, thank you."

Elise translates and the girl isn't phased by my barb. She pats the pocket where she had stuffed the cash flashing me a sly grin and with another bow, turns from our presence.

"I'm rather relieved, Your Majesty," Elise smiles as we head out of the shop, "that your bartering skills are much better with grow-ups than they seem to be with twelve year-old females." I know she's having fun at my expense.

"She was ruthless."

"Indeed."

* * *

I sit in the bedroom that has served as my home for the past ten days. I welcome the respite. My schedule has been jammed packed with visits to almost every province in New Asia which included visiting local villages highly impacted by the war, to luncheons and dinners and speeches in between. It was exhausting but necessary for the healing between our nations. And every minute, I thought of America.

She would be so much better than I at offering words of comfort to the widows of fallen soldiers, to fatherless children, to soldiers broken by a war that defended nothing. Every story, every image was heart wrenching and I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

We had made it a habit to speak daily if just for a few minutes. She kept me updated on the progress for the Summer Bazaar and I shared all she wanted to know about the people of New Asia. For my part, I limited some of the gory details to what I had witnessed were the sad results of the war from our conversations. She didn't press me about it though I knew she wanted to. I was grateful. I compensated, telling her instead about the places I'd been and the strange foods I'd tasted. How gracious the New Asian people had been. It was nice to hear her voice and it was the last thing I heard before turning out the lights every night.

 _"Is Elise going to come?"_ America asks as we speak on the phone one evening.

"Maybe."

I can sympathize as I hear her sigh. She had tried convincing Elise to join the other Selected for the Bazaar. It would be an event to help raise funds for schools and offer job training to help those who had been in the lower castes. Elise wouldn't commit.

 _"Very well. I just hoped she could see how much we need her here at home too."_

"Elise is duty conscious to her country. I'm sure she'll come around."

 _"I hope you're right. I hate that she stays away from all palace functions."_

Not wanting to talk about Elise or the Bazaar or anything else but us, I say, "I miss you."

 _"How much?_ " I can almost see her smiling as she says it.

"More than I could show you over this damn phone." She laughs.

 _"I can't wait for you to come home."_

"I can't wait to hold you." I pause a heartbeat, ask, "What are you wearing?"

 _"What? What am I wearing? Like...right now?"_

"Mhmm..."

The momentary shock disappears in an instant. " _Well_... _if you_ must _know...,"_ she drawls, _"I am wearing your Angeles Kings jersey and a pair of your cotton boxers...and calf length socks. How sexy is that, huh?"_

I growl. America laughs again. "Damn sexy. Though to be frank, I'd rather you were wearing that nightgown from the pictures you sent me or something more...see through."

 _"I'm sure you can imagine that just fine."_

"Oh... _I am_ imagining it...quite vividly," I grin. "Which I've been thinking..."

 _"What?"_

"I think...I should have my own private collection of pictures. You know...for when I'm away."

 _"Maxon! You naughty boy!"_

I laugh. But she doesn't grant me my wish. Well, it was worth a shot.

We talk for a bit longer until she tells me that Mary has arrived to get her ready for the day. "I'll be dreaming of you," I tell her. We end with a string of I love you's and then there's silence.

I set my cell on the nightstand and pick up the beaded necklace that sits on top. I lean back on the pillows holding it by the clasp and letting it pool into my palm over and again. I grin. I'm like a schoolboy daydreaming of the girl I love. I can't wait to make love to her in my dreams tonight.

My cell buzzes.

Message:

 _"_ _Just thought you'd like to see how sexy I look in your jersey and boxers." ~America_

The picture isn't risqué by any means but it still makes my heart leap. She has that morning glow about her with those swollen lips and messy hair. She's so damn sexy. And those long legs make me think very wicked things...

Reply:

 _"Just wait until I get my hands on you. I'm starved."_ – _Maxon_

Message:

 _"Hurry. I'll be waiting." ~America_

* * *

"How was your flight home, Your Majesty?" Harrison greets me once as I step foot on the pebbled driveway of the palace. I take a deep breath. The warm afternoon breezes of Angeles greet me, mixed with the fragrant blooms of late spring. Home. I'm glad to finally be home.

"Good. Thank you, Harrison. And how have you been?" He takes my coat and we are walking towards the steps to the main door.

"Very well, Your Majesty."

"I'm glad to hear it. Busy at the stables no doubt? How many foals this season?"

Harrison can't help the glint in his eyes as he proudly announces, "Four. We have been fortunate to have sired such a strong blood line. Your stables are the envy of many, Your Majesty." I can see the pride he wears by the puff of his chest. "Although we have gotten quite a few requests for us to allow Baldorado to sire other mares," he says a bit gruffly.

"You don't sound too pleased with that. I would think you'd welcome the opportunity," I say as we pass the royal guards stationed at the door.

"The decision isn't mine to make. I'm just...particular that's all."

We pause in the foyer as I smile at the familiar scent of home. Harrison speaks. "I must tell you, Your Majesty, we were all very proud of your accomplishments regarding the agreement with New Asia. Mending broken bridges is never an easy task. You did excellently. You are the kind of leader your mother would hoped you would be."

The bond between Harrison and I has become tighter since he became my valet and although he is not my father his words of encouragement and pride never fail to have somewhat of a warm effect on me. I give him a thin smile, almost embarrassed by the words of praise. "Thank you."

He simply inclines his head then asks, "Will you be dining privately or should I have the servants set dinner for you and the queen in the Great Room?"

"Privately. We will ring for it."

"Very well, Your Majesty." He pauses then says, "It's good to have you home, sir."

"It's good to be home," I smile widely. "Now...If you'll pardon me, Harrison, I am dying to greet Mrs. Schreave." We part ways and setting aside talk about politics and horses, I head like an arrow, straight to America.

The phone conversation we had once I had climbed into the limo headed to the palace has been playing in my mind ever since. She'd said, as she promised, she'd be waiting for me. In America's language, I knew exactly what she meant.

 _"And I'm not wearing boxers or a jersey,"_ she had made a point to tell me as well. My heart spasmed.

Two weeks has been an insufferable hell of torture. Her pictures teased me. They were like looking at a full color picture of my favorite dish, unable to savor or sink my teeth into it. It's as if all my other senses– to smell of her, to taste her, to feel her had been cruelly severed and I was helpless to my wretchedness. I lost count of how many times I had looked at those pictures; sometimes I even found myself discreetly flicking to them in the middle of a meeting. To have been apart from her for this long– good God! I feel as if I haven't eaten in days– a man on the very edge of starvation. But I was home now. I could feel my mouth watering, my hands aching, my heart staggering as I bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time, to our bedroom.

* * *

I step inside, eager. My blood thrums with life.

I'm surrounded by the world of my dreams. I absorb it in mere seconds. The familiar scents of my bedroom...of her.

And that sight that greets me, does not disappoint. Every word I had planned on speaking dies in my mouth. I'm rendered mute.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty..."

My eyes are wide, my mouth suddenly dry. She's flesh and blood, not a memory or a dream– not just a voice on the other end of the phone and not an ocean away. Not a damned picture. Her red hair is loose, draping about her shoulders. Her smile is as wicked as her lack of clothing and the look in her eyes screams nothing more than feral hunger. My gaze is unwavering as I take in my wife dressed in see through, white lingerie which gaped wickedly in the front. My eyes track along the bare patch of skin right under her bosoms, down to her flat stomach and bellybutton, which like two beacons, beg for my touch.

"Daddy's home," I say, my voice hoarse, feeling the tightness of my penis straining against my zipper. I see her face flush at my greeting.

I hurriedly shed my jacket and yank off my tie. Kicking off my shoes, socks and dropping my pants as if they were lit on fire, I hurry to the one person who has this uncanny power over me– the power to make me feel as if I could literally combust and if I didn't touch her right now I just might. Once my knees hit the edge of the bed we virtually crash into each other. Moans and groans, breaths, gasps, the sounds of lips and mouths sliding over each other boom like a melodious chorus around us. Every one of my senses is heightened and my heart races like its in hyperdrive. America is kneeling on the mattress and my hands map her body, every curve, each hill recalled to memory. Her slender arms glide around my shoulders. We are kissing with a desperate hunger. Her fingers gather handfuls of my hair into her palms. I groan louder and she melts into me.

"Welcome home, Maxon," she pants between kisses.

"Damn, I missed you, America." My heart is slamming in my chest, still not believing I'm holding her in my arms.

She tastes of strawberries and I love the sweetness of her mouth as I savor her over my tongue. The familiar scent of vanilla that I had missed so much these past two weeks wraps around me like a welcome home caress. My hands continue exploring her body and I squeeze her thong-clad ass tightly in my hands. I want to leave my fingerprints all over her. She lets her head fall back as I run my tongue along the column of her throat.

"What the hell took you so long?" she whispers against my mouth. Her hand runs the length of my stiff cock. The feel of her hand like a bolt of lightning shoots through me. And I can't hold on any longer.

I'm breathing, urgent and uncontrolled breaths in her ear. I pull back and look at her, holding her face between my hands. "Don't you worry. We have two weeks of catch-up to do. And I'm planning on catching up."

I see the fire blaze in her blue eyes as she lets out a shaky breath. My fingers trace the sides of her swan-like neck to her shoulders and without warning, I rip the skimpy piece of lingerie straight off her body. America gasps at the sound of rent material now destroyed on the mattress and a devilish smile spreads across my face. My hands and mouth are immediately on her bared mounds, running my tongue over pink buds. Lowering my fingers to her hips, her panties aren't spared either and in an instant they are gone. I can't help the urge that overwhelms me and skim my fingers into the wet heat of her desire as my mouth clamps on the pulse point of her neck. And I groan feeling how soft, delicate and how very moist she is...for me.

America, still on her knees, holds on to me and parts her legs just so. I know what she wants. I insert a finger and she whimpers, "Oooohhh". A second soon follows. Her hands are in my hair and she tugs tighter. I hold my fingers unmoving inside of her as my thumb begins to roll over her swollen, tented clit. She curses softly in my ear, as her breaths of pleasure brush by. I want to watch her so I pull back. That ethereal look of sexual beauty drapes her face. I love it. I give her what she wants with my fingers in deep and gentle strokes but there is so much more I want to do. So much more I've been thinking of doing to her. So I withdraw my fingers, taste her, then pulling on her hips, "Lie down, darling," I say. She moves, laying back on the bed and I sink to my knees. I yank her bottom to the edge of the mattress, a little yelp escaping her. I waste no time and I taste and savor and eat. And my mouth continues to water. And I continue to feed. She's the tastiest dish I've had in fourteen days.

America's fingers are gently stroking my hair as I lave her soft folds. Each coo of pleasure, each syllable of my name is like a drop of water on the sizzling fire in my veins. Two weeks. Two whole damned weeks without tasting her like this. I'm parched. I greedily drink from her fountain pausing just long enough to admire her womanhood before diving in once more. I don't want to stop. Ever. But there is a greater eagerness persisting in my loins. A monstrous need that can no longer be ignored. And it keeps calling to me to release it.

As America undulates beneath my kiss, I push my boxers over my hips and down to my knees. I hate to stop but I have reached a point of no return. The residue of her essence is fresh on my lips and with a sweep of my tongue, I lick it off. I stand, kicking off my boxers as I smile appreciatively at my wife. I rip my shirt open and buttons fly everywhere and I toss it behind me. My bare skin absorbs the touch of America's hands like water to a dry sponge. We move further unto the bed. Her legs part in an invitation as I kneel between her ivory thighs. I take one of her hands, then the other, pressing a feathered kiss on the pulse of each wrist then thread my fingers with hers. I raise her arms above her head and lean over her; our bodies horizontal. I kiss her softly, teasing her ear, neck, shoulders, breasts. She's relaxed and pure submission is written all over her face; that beautiful face that has taken residence in my every thought. And in one commanding forward motion, I thrust myself into the luscious, heat of her body. In that moment of consummate delight when the heat of her body swallows me...I growl and everything I am surrenders to her will.

There's no sound more beautiful to me than America's voice when we're fused together. No sound that makes my blood boil, that makes my ears ring and every nerve in my body from head to toe thump with life. And it's not just the sound of her voice, no, not just her cries but the feel of her body, mind and soul unlike anything otherworldly, wrapped around mine. I'm in that place...beyond the physical pleasures, beyond the essence of life– she is bonded to me and I to her. We are two souls fastened in this vast universe where no span of space or time could keep us apart.

I bury my face into her neck, breathing her in. "I love you...I love you, America." I let myself drown in all that she is– my wife, my lover, my best friend as her body takes me to places only she can. Our lovemaking is not gentle. A part of my soul has been missing and it feels as if we have crossed this cosmos in search of each other and lastly like two shooting stars, finally collide and explode into oblivion.

The headboard bangs loudly against the wall, the mattress groans beneath us and our voices are a blend of fervor and wanton desire as limbs and mouths and words swirl like a tornado around us. Fingernails bury into my back and I welcome the message they send: _More...more...more!_ This torrent, so violent, so raw sweeps us along, tossing us into each other, hurtling us into this abyss of passion where lovers fall and wish for no escape. And in this vortex, secure in the arms of my one and only, I climax; the effects a blinding explosion of lights behind the closed curtains of my eyes as the fire of life rips through my body, destroying my mind and body and leaving me spent.

America is breathing just as hard and soon fingers which had been clutching my shoulders slide off my body. Now she lies relaxed, free from the coiled tension I had felt under me a moment ago. She moans softly and lets out a satisfied sigh. "That was amazing," she smiles lazily, the back of her hand caressing my cheek.

"It has been too long hasn't it?" I say.

"Insufferably long."

We kiss softly, reveling in the aftermath of our lovemaking.

We spend time holding each other, speaking in soft whispers like lovers do and kissing and caressing not in a sexual way but in displays of genuine affection, grateful that we are together at last and not a thousand miles apart. We make love again, this time less rushed, deeper, sensual. Though the pace is slower, the result is just as electric. Afterwards, I vow never to leave her side again. Her laughter booms around me but I can only look upon her with all the love my heart can give.

"I have a gift for you," I tell her as I slip out of bed to retrieve it from my discarded jacket.

"A gift? Maxon, you shouldn't have." America sits up pulling the sheet over her bosom. Her eyes follow me.

I return, propping on an elbow against the mattress. "Of course I should. You're my girl. Now...open your hand." I gently lower the necklace into her palm.

"Maxon...it looks just like..."

"Your bracelet..."

"Yes! the one you brought me from New Asia. How did you..."

"Find it?" I laugh. "Let's just say, don't ever haggle with a twelve-year old girl."

"What?"

"Long story. Here. Let me put it on you." I shift to sit.

She smiles as I take the necklace. America lifts up her hair as I lean over and secure it around her neck. It rests just at her collarbone.

"You make it look even more beautiful."

America looks down, lifting the delicate beads off her neck. She thanks me with a kiss. "You'll never cease to amaze me."

"I certainly hope not." I lean back on the pillows, my hands under my head.

"It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful. God, I missed you so much. Being away from you is torture."

"I'm glad you're home." She eases down next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. "You really missed me that much?"

"Didn't I just show you how much?"

"Well, that was some pretty hot sex at the peril of my lingerie, may I add." She pokes my side and I laugh.

"Yeah...Uhm...sorry about that."

"You aren't in the least bit sorry."

"You're right. I'm not," I grin.

She props herself up on an elbow. Her hand goes to the necklace on her neck, rolling a bead between her fingers. Her eyes have that sparkle. She smiles at me and I ask what she's thinking as she bites her lower lip. She doesn't make me wonder for long and says, "Hmmm...about those pictures..."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to post a review! You know how I love those!**

 **If you left a review for** **Chapter 9 see my replies in the "Reviews" section.**

 **If you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.**

 **If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the** ** _"_** ** _Guidelines for Special Requests_** ** _"_** **posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".**

 **What will be the next Bedtime Story you ask?**

 **Stay Tuned!**


	11. The Shape of You

**Author's Notes:**

 **Thanks to MastaGamerita for putting this idea out there.**

 **Many of you have asked for a story that featured a nude photo shoot. In addition, there have also been requests for a more domineering Maxon for this story. Although I found the suggestion provocative and try my best to satisfy my readers, I am a strong believer in a woman maintaining a measure of control regarding her body and how she wishes to express her sexuality.**

 **In keeping with that philosophy, the** ** _content_** **of these characters in addition to not crossing certain boundaries I have personally established for myself, this story reflects what I believe encompasses everything I love and treasure about Maxon and America. Characters can be adventuresome even in matters regarding their most intimate moments together and yet still respect each other and demonstrate that it's not all about the fantasy they wish to fulfill but more importantly about a relationship built on love and trust.**

 **I hope that I have been able to accomplish that in this latest installment of "Bedtimes Stories"**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers, you know who you are, please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 ** _Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories_**

 **"The Shape of You"**

 **I'm in love with the shape of you**  
 **We push and pull like a magnet do**  
 **Although my heart is falling too**  
 **I'm in love with your body**  
 **And last night you were in my room**  
 **And now my bed sheets smell like you**  
 **Every day discovering something brand new**  
 **I'm in love with your body**

 **~ Ed Sheeran**

 _ **~ In the Queen's Suite**_

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Marlee asked America as she picked up the large white feather off her best friend's bed. She brushed the plume along her cheek smiling at the ticklish sensation it gave her. America stood before the standing mirror choosing between a black, lacy babydoll in her left hand or the sheer white tunic in her right. She had pressed each garment against her underwear clad body wondering which one would shoot better against her red hair and ivory skin. Did she wish to look like a naughty nymph or more like a seductive angel? She guessed either would work. Maxon wouldn't really care, she mused.

"Of course I'm sure," she replied turning to Marlee. "I wouldn't be going through all of this trouble if I weren't sure." She gestured to her bed which was covered in lingerie pieces– lacy ones, sheer ones, the barely there type. And spread next to the piles of sexy wares, a wide assortment of lacy panties, garters, garter belts, stockings and brassieres. She often referred to these as Maxon's private wardrobe. _For his eyes only_.

"I'm just asking," Marlee said, looking curiously at a pair of matching objects with tassels on the ends that sat among the array of accessories and cosmetics America had laid out on her vanity. "You are Queen after all, America. What if those pictures get into the wrong hands?" she added, popping off the cap from a tube of lipstick. Picking up a second tube and flipping it on its end, _Desert Rose_ , the label read, popped off the cap of that one as well comparing each shade– one scarlet red, the other a softer mauve.

"They won't. Maxon promised. Besides, it's not as if we're having a photographer do the shots. Maxon has all the equipment we need. It'll be just the two of us. Secure and private."

"Still...I don't think it's a good idea, you know." Marlee smirked, leaning into the vanity mirror and gliding the brighter shade of red lipstick over her colorless lips. "I thought," she smacked her lips together, "that these were for Maxon's private collection."

"Yes...they are. Besides, he's not allowed to take any full nude photos with him.. _._ just a few sexy ones of his choice _._ That was my condition." America was now standing next to Marlee, a white feather boa draped around her shoulders.

"But what if some...say, _criminal_...breaks into the palace and while he's trying to steal the royal jewels, he finds your nude photos instead? That's certainly worth a King's ransom! And then you could end up being blackmailed and..."

The feathery boa smacked Marlee on one side of her face making her yelp. "Will you stop letting your imagination run away with you like wild horses?!" Tiny little feathers floated up in the air and Marlee spit out the ones that had wound up stuck on her freshly painted lips. "First off, we don't keep the Royal jewels in our bedroom so if any thief would be stupid enough to look for the Royal jewels in our boudoir they'd be in for a rude awakening! Really, Marlee Woodwork!" America quirked a brow at her friend, her hands set on her hips. " _Ye_ , who encouraged me to, _"Live on the wild side, America,"_ she teased, imitating her best friend's voice and Marlee huffed lightheartedly. " _Ye,_ who talked me into being adventurous enough to seduce my husband into having sex outside of our bedroom walls and... _Ye,_ who made us take stripper dance lessons..."

"Correction," Marlee reminded with a pointed finger at her friend's reflection, "I didn't _make_ you. You lost the bet."

"Whatever," America replied with a carefree wave of her hand. "You surprise me. I didn't take you for such a prude."

"A prude?!" Marlee burst out laughing. "Hardly! I mean... _really_...you are my best friend, America. You know me better than to describe me so...innocently."

America couldn't have agreed more. She couldn't help echoing her friend's laughter, swearing never to use such a term in her honor again. "Don't you think every woman should canonize her youth immortally in photographs? I think it's a sexy idea. We're not going to have these bodies forever, you know. Especially after we start having babies."

Marlee replied with a shrug. "I suppose so. Maybe you have a point. But..."

"I do have a point!" America interrupted watching Marlee pick up one of the small objects with the tasseled ends between her fingers. "Time waits for no one. Before we know it, we'll be thirty!" America looked at their reflections in the mirror. Her own youthful body draped in white lacy undies. Not a wrinkle in sight, only the glow of youth and beauty staring back at them.

"Oh God! That's sooo old!" Marlee cringed, against a flash of alarm.

"Tell me about it. So long to perky breasts and firm behinds."

"Sagging boobs and ass? Thanks for cheering me up. Anyway, what are these?" Marlee asked, pressing the tasseled object next to an earlobe. "Earrings?"

America laughed. "Not earrings, silly! Nipple tassels."

"Oh my God!" she cried out, her face registering a momentary shock. Marlee looked more intently at the small coned shaped object covered in black satin fabric with a golden tassel swinging from its end. "You're going to wear this?" she asked. "How does it even stay on?" She pressed the opening over her top directly where the tip of her own nipple lay.

America shrugged. "Nicoletta sent them. With instructions." America turned from the vanity back to her bed.

Muttered, Marlee, "So risqué. So... _European_."

"Put that down and get over here. I need you to help me pick the three outfits I'm going to wear."

Setting the nipple tassel down, Marlee sauntered over. "So what look are you going for? High class courtesan or brothel whore?"

"Sexy. I want to be sexy...and classy!" America cried. "It's not as if I'm gong to be laid out spread eagle like some low-class tramp on a red velvet covered divan."

"Alright...scratching the trampy nipple tassels."

"I want this experience to be lovely and sexy. Something Maxon and I will remember for a long time. And I want Maxon eating out of the palm of my hand by the end of it all."

"Ohh...trust me," Marlee smiled, twirling a red garter around her finger, "You, my friend, definitely will."

* * *

 ** _Two days later...in the King's Suite_**

Maxon was kissing her again. Not a sweet, gentle kiss but a hot, searching, hungry kiss, the sort that had America's fingers biting into his muscular shoulders and had her sorely gasping for breath. He was barefoot, wearing only a thin t-shirt and loose fitting black slacks. Maxon's breath brushed raggedly against her ear. His lips scorching a path along her jawline dipping lower to suckle her neck, her collarbone. His advances had been more than welcome.

Maxon had been busy last night getting things set and ready in his room for the photo shoot and he'd risen early in the morning, telling America he needed to take care of some last minute details. He wished to keep the setting a surprise so they had slept in her bedroom. She promised him not to take a peek but she had missed the comfort and familiarity of Maxon's bed. She hadn't spent a single night in her own room since they had been married. So, once everything was in order and she stepped through the adjoining door into Maxon's bedroom now more accurately, _their bedroom_ , she smiled at the romantic setting which greeted her. Full heads of fragrant roses occupied several vases, a few pink ones even strewn on the bed. The bed itself was dressed in white satin sheets. Chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne sat on a silver tray on one of the night tables. Her heart fluttered. This was so like Maxon, always making each occasion feel like their own special adventure. A warm heat bloomed in her core spreading pleasantly through her.

He had arranged several cameras on tripods around the room and wore a couple around his neck; one with a long lens, she noted. He had explained to her previously the differing functions the cameras served but since she knew almost nothing of photography, left that part to his expertise. Although Maxon had been gifted a digital camera by the President of New Asia as a small gesture of the peace agreement he opted for the old school method of using real film calling himself a photography snob.

They had spent the latter part of the morning, between ten and noon, busy with the first photos, taking advantage of the spectacular, natural light during that time of morning. It filtered through their bedroom confirming Maxon's assessment and his trained eye that this would be the perfect time of day. _"'The perfect lighting,'"_ he'd told her. They had made it through the first round of shooting for the most part, well-behaved.

Things had started out a bit stiff and awkward but they soon allowed themselves to relax, and of course, after a few glasses of champagne, the session began to create and weave itself into fluidity. The snap of each picture began spinning a tale about love and passion, captured in living color; a timeless testament. Maxon had proved to be a good coach giving America instructions on how to pose, directing her like the conductor of a symphony weaving his mastery over each individual instrument.

"Arch your back up higher, sweetheart," he'd directed as he dropped to a knee, a perfect distance from the bed. She lay in the middle of their bed on those white satin sheets which made her feel sexy in a high-cut lacy white teddy that bared her hips and the length of her shapely legs. She posed as he asked her to do, arching her back as he wished, her legs, two inverted V's on the mattress, her painted toes pressed into the cushion of the bed. The camera clicked and clicked several more times.

Maxon loved the way she looked, "So sexy," he'd told her as he took another shot from up above having stepped up on a stool for a better overhead shot. Her red locks splayed about her head giving Maxon a sensual contrast of fire and ice against the white sheets. The deep V cut of the teddy barely draped her breasts and pointed wickedly downwards, revealing her flat stomach and navel. "Beautiful, darling," he said, clicking away. "Give me a bit more hip, sweetheart." She did just so, twisting her torso to one side. "Just damn, beautiful." She posed for him– arms above her head, hands caressing the length of her slender body, fingers brushing her lips. America allowed herself to be consumed in the moment, thinking how he made her feel so beautiful as if the camera were an extension of his hands on her body and she were making love to him. She also couldn't help musing to herself that he loved telling her what to do. It made her hot.

Although the photo shoot was for Maxon, she also had the freedom of expression as she changed from the teddy into the see through white tunic and lacy bikini panties that didn't cover much of her ass. She took this series to the chaise. Posing on her stomach with a bent knee hanging off the edge of the loveseat. Her body was propped on an arm as she signaled with a finger in a _"Come here"_ motion. She could see the smile spread over Maxon's mouth behind the camera. The following pose made him grin as well as she pressed her index finger against her puckered lips in a _"Shhh"_ still. Maxon switched cameras taking a shot of her propped on both elbows, her legs bent at a right angle, crossed at her ankles. Each shot, the tunic resting right at the dip of her back revealing the mounds of her backside, were very much appreciated by her husband. The clicking of the camera moved along, one shot after the next.

It wasn't all serious business though. They made each other laugh as they wondered out loud what their families would think of this or if other royal couples had carried on in such unroyal behavior. Again, America changed positions, waiting on Maxon to reload the camera with new film. She was now kneeling on the chaise with her back to Maxon. Looking with a smoldering gaze over her shoulder at the camera, her back dipped into a deep C that accentuated the curve of her hips and round bottom.

"Do you like this one?" She teased him, wiggling her ass, barely covered by those white panties. He merely replied with a growl and she surmised that this had been the trigger for his current behavior since after this particular set, Maxon could hardly stand keeping his hands and mouth to himself.

Setting the cameras aside he extended a hand to his wife. She rose to stand on her bare feet just to be pulled against his hard body which took her by surprise. His pupils were blown wide, fully dilated and a fire burned behind his gaze. It was a look all too familiar to America and it took her breath away. But before she could utter a protest, telling him they needed to wait, his mouth was on hers and his hands,...God. His hands were everywhere! She moaned and gripped at his t-shirt feeling the depth of his desire mixed with her own, drugging her and making her heady. She realized she couldn't give in to him, not just yet, even as much as she wanted to fuck him senseless. So she tore herself from him, gasping for breath.

And now, once she had gotten away long enough to change into her final outfit, the black babydoll, he was kissing her again, that hot, intense kiss that pricked every nerve of her body and alerted her to his need now pressing firmly against her thigh, making her weak and drunk and almost helpless.

"Maaaxon..." she gasped, "You can't keep kissing me like that or else we'll...we'll never get finished." Her heart was racing in her chest as if she'd just run a marathon.

Maxon pressed his forehead against hers. "I know..." he spoke breathlessly. "I hadn't taken into consideration just...just how damn hot you'd be."

His comment made goosebumps erupt over every part of her bare skin. She swallowed, taking a step back away from him. "We're going to be losing light if we don't stay focused."

"Right. Focus." He looked in pain as he massaged is burgeoning erection through his pants, trying to quell his need for her.

His mouth was stained with her lipstick and he looked so pitiful but she smiled, wiping off what she could with her thumbs. She had to reapply it once more and then took her position by the chair Maxon had chosen as a prop.

The session resumed.

She had given much thought as to what poses she could conjure up using a chair. So, she began by propping her right foot on the seat of the chair, a red garter ringed around her mid-thigh. America tilted forward, an elbow on her knee, her chin delicately resting on the back of her hand. Maxon snapped away, admiring her naked hip and the length of her toned legs. But he was most grateful that she donned a thong because it covered nothing of her nice ass. He smiled behind the camera. "Fabulous, darling." He used 'fabulous' but was thinking of a much dirtier word.

Facing Maxon as she sat, she parted her legs slowly revealing her creamy inner thighs and lace triangle covering her womanhood, her hands bunching her hair, raising the lacy fabric of the babydoll to show the slight undersides of her breasts. She followed that by leaning forward, the heels of her palms resting on the edge of the chair between her legs, giving Maxon a generous look at the ivory mounds of her cleavage against the black lace. "goddamnit, I love it," murmured Maxon. She couldn't contain her smile. Something about teasing Maxon like this made her want to torture him even more so.

America stood and turning her back to him, straddled the chair. And that wicked straddle took things to a whole new level as she began to shed the lacy garment off her shoulders, slowly down her upper back. She slipped her arms out of it. From Maxon's view, the lacy bit swiftly disappeared like a magician's silk. He couldn't see the fabric now clutched tightly against her chest. Her bare back faced him. Maxon's curse barely reached her ears. She smiled even though he couldn't see it but her heart pounded fierce against her. The only thing covering her from his vantage point were the black strings of her thong which stood out in stark contrast around her creamy hips and the red garter on her right thigh but to her surprise she didn't hear the click of the camera.

"Maxon?" She looked over her shoulder to find him gawking.

"Oh...right," he blushed, bringing the camera to his face. "Ready?" he asked and she simply nodded. The shutter sounds of the camera filled the silence between them. He should say something but he had no words since they all felt as if they had been twisted and tied on to his tongue. He could not help but admire the beautiful contours of what made her so structurally different from him. The velvety smooth canvas of her bare back, the slight hint of muscle between her shoulder blades, the dip of her spine, the curvaceous lines of her hips, the fullness of her ass which he so desperately wanted to reach out and caress...or slap. And she was all for him.

"Turn around for me, darling. I want to see you." He flushed at the request, his heart slamming in his chest and the sound of his blood rushed in his ear.

They had spoken about this at length but they both knew she was still nervous. It was one thing to pose half-naked in sexy lingerie but totally nude? For all of her bravado with Marlee she felt her nerves sparking like live wires under her skin. America shivered. Maybe she was a prude to that extent, after all. She shoved the thought aside.

She clutched the lacy material of the babydoll tightly between her breasts. _'I just need something to hold on to'_ , she said to herself, grasping for the confidence she wanted to have. Maxon for his part sensed her apprehension. He was being a bastard, wasn't he? He thought. By making her do this to satisfy his sexual fantasy.

He came to kneel next to her and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "America," he said her name so tenderly, his reassuring hand sweeping over the curve of her bare shoulder and down her arm. "We don't have to. We can..."

"No." She cut him off. "I want to." She looked at him fully now with those gorgeous blue eyes. "I trust you, Maxon. But..." she inhaled a shuddering breath, "Kiss me."

Maxon did kiss her, softly, his gentle fingers treading up her arms, her upper back and slipping up into her hair. He felt her shiver against him and he knew then what he needed to do.

"Thank you," she smiled a small smile. She needed that but didn't voice it.

"I love you."

"I know," she replied.

Maxon took his place before her, heart pounding and she let him know she was ready. Slowly, and ever so stylish thinking back to the lessons she had taken with Marlee, she swung her leg over the back of the chair impressing Maxon and she felt the weight of anxiety and worry begin to lift. She faced him now, the black lacy material covering her breasts. It was a sexy shot, Maxon said and she heard the camera snap. The garment felt like an anchor even as she slid the delicate ware down. Slowly. ' _This is Maxon,'_ she thought. He had seen her in all her glory; had branded every part of her. And he loved her; worshiped her. The thunder of her beating heart and the slight coarseness of lace as it traveled down her torso to her navel made her aware of her nakedness as she revealed it. And the camera clicked.

Maxon didn't rush her. He allowed her to set the pace to every shot, giving her full control of her body. Her fear continued to ebb. And she posed, each shot feeding her confidence. Finally, as she slipped out of the last thing that covered her, there was nothing but love in her eyes and Maxon sucked in a breath. Unashamed now, America allowed herself that freedom to _be_ and the camera clicked and clicked again as her heart soared in her chest. She was with her Maxon and there was no safer haven.

After several tastefully incorporated poses and lastly, what Maxon thought was a beautiful set of silhouetted photos of her totally nude body standing before the lazily, billowing curtains of their bedroom, Maxon slipped out from under his cameras and out of his clothes.

He approached America who wore a very pleased and appreciative look. Maxon slid his hands around her middle as her hands snaked over the muscles of his arms.

"Why are you naked, my love?" She asked in that teasing tone but her insides were already ablaze.

He looked at her with so much love America felt her knees tremble. "I don't want you to ever feel alone...in anything," he said. "I want to live every moment of this life with you, America. I want to take every breath with you. I want to taste life with you. I want..." he whispered, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, "I want it all..."

And when he kissed her this time she felt as if heaven itself had opened up to her because in Maxon's love, it had to be heaven.

She wondered how lucky she had to be to have a man so sensual and provocative. So sexually attuned.

Maxon told her he didn't want her to feel alone in anything. He knew what had to be done when she sat in that chair and he felt her shiver against him. In that instant there was no second thought. Maxon considered it only fair they should pose together so their love could also be a story cemented in time. She couldn't have loved him more for it.

Maxon set timers on the cameras and as they posed, she couldn't have felt a closer bond to any other person in the universe. It wasn't sex. This was intimacy. This was putting your soul in the hands of another. This was trust.

The pictures were sexy and brimmed with tasteful passion–

Maxon, standing, his muscular back to the camera, a set of hands clamped on his naked ass. _Click._

Maxon, standing, America kneeling, the side of her face set against the rippling muscles of his stomach. Her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. _Click._

America, kneeling before Maxon, his hands deep in her hair, her face buried against his pelvis. _Click._

America, her back leaning against his chest, his face buried in her neck, their right hands linked between her breasts, her free arm, curling back, hand cupping his face. _Click._

America and Maxon, kneeling together on their nuptial bed, her back flushed against his chest, his large hands curved over her breasts, their mouths melded in a kiss. _Click._

And his erection, the one she had tried so desperately to ignore since that very first pose together, nudging stiffly at her bare bottom...

And she moaned into the kiss, their bodies still locked in that last pose. She pushed her bottom slightly against his erection, her intent, obvious because she couldn't stand it anymore and didn't want to ignore that manly organ not for another damn second.

Maxon didn't need much more encouragement as he wedged his erection between her legs. The welcome slickness of her desire met the head of his manhood and as it coated him, a groan of pure delight rumbled in the back of his throat. And she was spilling her desire copiously over his length. He couldn't believe how much she was dripping. The need to taste it overwhelmed him.

He moved swiftly and had her on her back against those satin sheets. America's eyes flashed in surprise and he grinned, a very wicked grin. She shivered as his gaze pinned her to the mattress. And as he kissed and bit his way down her body, America was fire, a phoenix roaring. "Fuck," he heard himself mutter feeling the heat of her body searing his palms, feeling her gasping breaths beneath his mouth.

A sound, the mirth of satisfaction erupted from her once his tongue dove between her folds. America's fingers gripped Maxon's blond mane like the reins on a steed guiding his movements and the power of his drive. Her hips bucked against his mouth. He clamped his large hands against her inner thighs and pushed them down hard against the mattress. "Don't...do that." It was a command not a request and she felt a rush through her body at his thick commanding tone. She whimpered, wanting to feel his mouth on her, fighting that wild urge to buck against his face. Her insides were coiled so tight she thought she would snap. Maxon though, held her fast in place feeling that tension in the muscles of her inner thighs, feeling the roar of the phoenix as she consumed him. But he wasn't about to give up his control. Not today. "I want to hear you." Again, a command. And before her next breath he clamped his lips on her clit, and she cried out with a feverish delight. He was sucking hard on her clit, drawing it between his lips, doing to her as he pleased and that tightness in her body pulled mercilessly at her limbs making them tremble as Maxon pleasured her and then... _SNAP!_ She burst in his mouth. Maxon savored her taste, the sweet essence that now coated his tongue. America loosened her barbaric hold on his hair as the pads of her fingertips as light as a summer breeze caressed the sides of his face.

America cupped his face gently between her hands reveling in the aftermath of her destruction. Once she regained feeling in her limbs again, "Come here. Come, Maxon," she called to him. He felt weightless against her touch as if she'd somehow in that very instant managed and had taken possession of him. He supposed she had as he moved at her direction, unquestioning.

"Come...make love to me, Maxon."

She gathered him to her and he heard her suck in a breath when he parted her legs wide with the force of his knees. It made his heart thunder and he lurched his body into hers and lowered into her arms as the heat of her love swallowed him whole.

Maxon heard the guttural groans of his own pleasure as desire rippled through his body. His body moved generously inside of hers, filling her, burying her deeper into the mattress. He gripped the back of her thighs, her ankles crossed around his lower back. And they were making love and it was hot and lustful. The mattress sang under their bodies– the song of unity and love and sex.

Maxon's hands hooked under her shoulders as he drove himself into her as if he would die. America didn't hold him back, her fingernails making impressions on his scarred back. And he welcomed the pain and wanted more of it.

"Fuck me. Fuck me, Maxon," she panted in his ear. Her pleas didn't go unanswered because he did fuck her as hard as she was begging him to. America wrapped him in her arms, the weight of his body solid against hers and she didn't mind it. But there was a hunger beating in Maxon's body and she felt it. It was wild and feral and she wanted to unleash it. She bit him. He roared.

She was on her stomach. He had flipped her over that fast and he was on her. Maxon yanked her hips, tilting them upwards for a better angle and he filled her whole with every inch of his cock. Her voice shook at his entry but America welcomed the power inside of her, gripping those satin sheets into her palms. She cried out to him, the phoenix that would break him and bring him to his end. Her command was audible as she told him what she wanted from him– his life's essence. He tried foolishly to hold back but her body drew him, drew his life's essence from him into hers. He was powerless against her. There were flashes of light, molten lava ran through his veins as he continued to spill himself over and over inside of her. America smiled, feeling the grip of his hands on her hips tighten. He then had gone stiff, his voice booming around hers and she knew he was giving her his gift. Every drop.

The storm had passed. Maxon kissed her shoulder softly and rolled off her to lie on his back, still panting, still whirling, his body glistening from his efforts. America crawled over to him, draping half of her naked body against his.

"Shit," he said, rubbing a hand over his face and then looking up at the ceiling. "No one ever told me taking pictures would lead to _that_."

America laughed and kissed his damp chest.

* * *

 _ **Two days later...**_

"Oh! I really love this one," America exclaimed.

Maxon looked at the 8x10 photograph in her hand, a black and white shot of them together.

"Hmmm...I never realized I had such a nice ass."

"Such vanity," she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"It's a nice ass, right?'

"A very nice ass," she smiled, leaning over to kiss him softly.

It was late and they were sitting in bed leaning against the headboard, looking at their beautiful, sensual photographs.

"I never thought I'd take dirty pictures." America mused, flipping to a shot of herself totally nude.

"It's art, darling," Maxon said, admiring a picture of her straddled on the chair, her backside bare.

"So the Queen of Illéa takes nudies as a form of art?"

"There are many aesthetics of art that use the naked body as a platform of expression such as painting, sculpting, tattooing..."

"Right," she grinned. "And which one do you prefer?" A dangerous question, she knew.

He sighed, his eyes falling to her lips before he raised them to her sparkling eyes. They were so close, their breaths mixed as he said with a sly whisper, "I love the shape of you, darling. That makes me a hands on sort of man."

"Hands on?"

"Would you like a personal demonstration of my talents?"

"You do have extremely _talented_ hands."

Maxon grinned and showed her just how talented he truly was.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Okay my faithful readers I am making the plea to ALL of YOU! There were over 5,000 hits for "Bedtime Stories" in the month of March which makes me extremely happy! But PLEASE readers, don't forget to POST a review! I love that you guys are reading but PLEASE don't think your reviews don't matter because THEY DO!**

 **** CHECK OUT: The video "The Shape of You" in my profile! This song inspired me as I worked on this chapter! Sing Along with the lyrics!**

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 **If you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.**

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 **Another "Bedtime Story" coming soon!**


	12. Rules of Engagement

**Author's Notes:**

 **Maxon and America have returned from their honeymoon a blissfully married couple. But as they start to settle to palace life there is one problem America cannot deal with any longer.**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers, you know who you are, please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Rules of Engagement"**_

 **Neck Kissing**

 **Lip Biting**

 **Tight Hugging**

 **Ass Grabbing**

 _ **~ America**_

"Ohhh, Maxon, Maxon," I cooed, his generous strokes hitting all the right places against my silken walls. It was early morning and we were making love between the sheets. "Yesss… right there, just like that." My voice was but a whisper and Maxon responded with pleasured moans and groans that drove me absolutely insane. "You feel amazing," I purred as I softly kissed the shell of his ear, his neck. My hands snaked around his waist to the dip of his lower back, sliding up to the hills of his muscular ass as he moved inside of me. I curved my fingers around that fine ass and squeezed wanting to feel the flex and release of muscle, wanting to feel him deeper still. "God...you're sooo deep…" My mind was lost mid-thought as I quivered. Maxon clamped his mouth over mine, his kiss probing and so demanding, feeding a hunger he needed to satisfy and I was the dish he was devouring. His fingers buried in my hair, gripping my loose, red locks, sending shivers, tremors through my body as he took control of me. And I didn't mind it. Not one bit.

"You feel so damn good, sweetheart," he murmured in my ear. He moaned, "So damn good."

While I laid on my back mindlessly drunk in throes of sexual euphoria listening to Maxon's panting breaths against my cheek, feeling the press of his adoring kisses on my jawline, the way he commanded our bed– I could never get enough of him...not in a million years. That I was greedy and had a ravenous appetite for my husband? Well, that was a monumental understatement! As he pinned me solidly against the mattress I surrendered my body, every part of myself to him, lost in him, letting him ride me until this fire burning inside of me would at last be doused only by his touch, his kisses, his perfectly, oh so perfectly designed piece of steeled manhood.

"Uhhhh…Maaaaxon!" I breathlessly whispered in my own reverie, feeling the ripple of my orgasm. "I'm cumming." Yes, it was a shameless declaration but he deserved to know what he'd done to me. What man wouldn't? We were young and newly married and still learning how to satisfy and please the other. My bare feet wrapped around his calves as he groaned loudly telling me he loved the feel of me cumming all over him.

He kissed me, hungrier this time. "You're so wet." His words were titillating as they conjured another streak of shivers through every nerve of my naked body.

My head spun and I wanted to hear more. "I love you… so much," I panted. Maxon continued to fill me with every inch of his impressive manhood and the soft tap of the headboard only added to the thrumming pulse in my veins. I gripped his shoulders tight when he took hold of the back of my thighs, letting me know he wanted my legs wrapped around his waist. "Uhhh!" I cried feeling his erection dive even deeper. His strokes were faster now, harder too and so damn deep. I couldn't stifle my cries of delight and I was on the cusps of another orgasm when…

Our bedroom door flung open and a couple of maids walked in.

"Shit!" I cursed under my breath. Maxon's body stopped cold. His gasping breaths brushed against the side of my face. Fortunately for us we were still under the sheets. Was it breakfast time already?

"Good morning, Your Majesties!" one said in a cheery voice. "Breakfast."

"Thank you." Maxon managed to say over his shoulder. The maids set the trays on the nook as was their custom and excused themselves. I heard the door close behind them but the moment was ruined.

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. A few seconds ago I was heat and fire but now my body laid lifeless. Maxon dropped his head and I heard him sigh against the skin of my shoulder. I hated this. I hated my privacy being invaded! I hated the awkwardness of it all. I hated that we were so vulnerable. I hated the knowing looks I knew those maids probably shot at each other once they exited our room. I hated it all! And I took all of my anger and frustration out on Maxon.

"Get up." I ordered, irritated and undeniably vexed. "Get off of me." I hissed and pushed against his shoulders, feeling his withdrawal.

"America…"

I shuffled from under him and was off the bed and on my feet in seconds. Grabbing my white silk robe, I hurriedly slipped it on, not bothering to pull it close.

"America, sweetheart...don't be like that…," he said, shifting to lean on an elbow.

"Like what?!" I shouted, though not meaning to but, I had reached my breaking point.

"You knew this sort of thing would happen." Maxon ran a hand through his mussed hair and although his words were softly spoken, I was beyond appeasement.

"Well…I don't want it to happen anymore! Do you realize we haven't been home a week since our honeymoon and this is the third time we've had…people barging in on us?!" I asked, angrily gesturing at the bedroom door.

"They're only servants. Believe me– they're not phased by any of this."

"Oh, is that supposed to comfort me? Because it isn't comforting one bit, Maxon. Do you think I wish our sex life be a daily topic of gossip amongst the servants, the guards or whoever the hell has a free pass through that door?"

"You know it's against safety protocol to have the door locked, darling."

"Don't patronize me, Maxon. We had the door locked for two days in your old room right after we were married. It wasn't an issue then and I don't see why it should be now. Why can't we have this bedroom, _our_ bedroom door locked for Pete's sake?" I fumed.

It wasn't fair to me. It wasn't fair that I had to constantly smother my own fears in the privacy of my own bedroom while making love to my husband. That I had to live with this bothersome thought pricking the back of my mind that someone– a maid, a butler or even a guard felt free to walk into _my_ sanctuary without as much as a knock, rudely disrupting what was supposed to be a beautiful, romantic moment of intimacy with my husband! And I had to just accept it...with a smile to boot!

"It was that way with my parents and it's been that way with every other royal…"

"We are not your parents _or_ every other royal, Maxon!" I interrupted. "And unless this palace is burning down or there is some sort of real danger to our lives, I am demanding that you do something fix this. I will not be subject to feeling like some dime store floozy in a back alley..."

"Dime store floozy?"

"Yes! This is supposed to be private," meaning our love making. "Not a free peep show!"

Maxon sat up, the sheets covering his lower half which a moment ago, had been warm and snug between my legs. "I understand why you're upset, sweetheart. I do. Maybe...I don't know," he paused. "Maybe we need to you know…adjust our schedule to…"

I gasped loudly. "Schedule?!" I said, incredulously. My hands were firm on my naked hips, my robe wide open, my body on full display. "Are you insinuating that I, _your wife_ become an item on your daily agenda?!"

"That's not...that's not what I meant…I…"

"I certainly hope not," I frowned, cutting him off. "Don't they get your attention enough for the better part of the day, sometimes late into the evening that we must also sacrifice our time alone?!"

"It's part of my job, America. I'm on call every minute of the day I'm here in the palace."

"No! No, Maxon." I emphasized with a pointed finger. "Breakfast is not a call to duty," I stated, waving my hand at the breakfast trays on the nook. "Delivering some damn briefing update that can obviously wait until morning is not a reason to disturb the only time I get to have you all to myself! I am putting my foot down. Once you cross that threshold, no more paperwork, no phone calls and no more damn interruptions! Because if I wish," I emphasized, pressing a finger to my chest, "to give my husband a blowjob in the privacy of our nuptial chambers no matter the time of day, I should have the confidence to do so without fretting that _someone_ is going to barge in on me when I'm pleasuring my mate. And as your wife, those are my rules to you, Maxon. The. Door. Will. Be. Locked."

I crossed my arms and waited for his response. To his credit he said without hesitation, "I'll see what can be done."

I almost felt guilty for sounding so bitchy. I knew he had much on his plate and locking a door might've seemed inconsequential but this was our lives! An invasion of our privacy. And I was going to safeguard the little that we had. We needed this...for us. My guilt faded quickly.

"Fix it, Maxon. Because you better think which you'd rather have your hands on…on protocol or on me." I snapped my robe closed tying the silken belt with a huff. I turned headed to my room.

Before I got to the adjacent door leading to my suite Maxon had bolted from the bed and took hold of me by the waist.

"Hold on a second there, firecracker." He turned me to face him. I didn't fight. "I promise I'll take care of it. I give you my word. No more interruptions."

"What about… _protocol_?" I uttered the word with as much mockery and disdain as I could muster.

"If it means not having you… not being able to make love to you whenever we want...then to hell with protocol."

The rage inside me quieted...just a little. "Do you really mean that?" I asked him, the frown on my brow softening. We were peering into each other. Pools of warm, dark chocolate seeping into the depths of my soul. Maxon's lips curled into a sweet smile. God, he knew how to break me.

"I vowed to love you with everything I have. And I promised to make you the happiest woman on earth, remember? I'm going to make sure to keep my word." He then grinned slyly. "Besides, I have certain rules myself you know." I arched a brow. He smiled.

"Rules? What rules?"

"I call them Rules of Engagement. And those, sweetheart," he said brushing a wisp of hair from my face, as he drowned me with those chocolate browns, "I'm not willing to barter away."

"What..." I swallowed, desperate to know. "What are these rules?"

"Here. Let me show you."

Maxon lowered his head and began dotting kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck. Goosebumps lit my body. His lips brushed against mine and he kissed me with such care and tenderness. And when he asked for entry with a brush of his tongue, I couldn't resist parting my lips. I sighed as he gathered me in his arms, pulling me tight into his body. I melted into him like butter on a hot stove. I heard myself moan into his kiss. It was the kind of kiss he used to convince me that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for me. That he would lay the world at my feet if I'd ask him to. My arms hung limply at my sides as the warmth of his hands now cradled my face. My knees almost buckled as he pulled my lower lip with his teeth. Heat rushed straight to my core.

"Come back to bed," he said softly, "Please," his invitation brushing my ear. I felt the tie of my robe come undone. "I want to make you cum all over me again." He was a devil and he expertly cast his spell on me. He pushed the material of my robe open, slipping his warm hands around my middle. His fingertips tickled my naked back as they ran along the curve of my spine and landed on my bare ass. It was truly unfair this power he held over me. His hot kisses mapped a trail from my ear down my neck, over my throat. He sucked the dip of my collarbone making me moan with need. My arms came back to life as I raised them to loop around his neck. And I couldn't stop my fingers slipping into his soft hair. He moaned in response.

I was being swallowed by an ocean of desire when Maxon's mouth began to savor a breast then the other, making me shiver as he bit down softly on my sensitive, pert nub. I curled my fingers in his hair. Damn him for being so persuasive!

Next, he dipped a hand brushing the curly hair at the apex between my legs. His middle finger ghosted over my clit. A fire instantly flared in the pit of my stomach down to my core but I took firm hold of his wrist stopping his subsequent advance though my body cursed me. "If you wish to go any further…Go, lock the door. Now."

He gave an impish grin. "As you wish…my beautiful Queen."

I bit my bottom lip watching that gorgeous masculine ass head to the door. Hearing the lock on the door slide home immediately dispelled my worries.

"See, that wasn't so difficult now, was it?" I smiled once he returned to my arms.

He didn't reply. The fired look in his eyes was answer enough. Maxon pulled me into his chest. The feel of his naked body pressed against mine made me forget everything. And his kiss...oh god! His tongue, once again probed my mouth; deep and starved as if he'd been interrupted in the middle of a feast and was now returning to completely devour. I gasped as his hands made short work of my flimsy robe which now lay in a pool of silk at my feet.

And when he took my hand with purpose, wrapping my fingers around his warm, burgeoning erection I couldn't help to stroke that massive length. I licked my fingers for ease of movement wrapping them deftly around his cock and Maxon growled with genuine approval. There was something to be said about driving your lover to the brink of madness with good foreplay. I was getting rather good at it.

The temperature in the room had nearly tripled– Maxon's tongue insistent upon mine, his hand curving softly around my swollen breast, the other squeezing my ass. He was so hard in my hand that I had a powerful urge to drop to my knees and get on an even more personal level with that sensual organ I held. But Maxon kept kissing me, his mouth bruising my mouth as if this would be our last night together and my toes curled, my hands sliding over the dip of his muscular hip to grab his firm, naked ass. His erection strained against my stomach and I wanted nothing more at this exact moment than to feel his thickness buried deep inside my body again.

Maxon swept me off my feet, picking me up bridal style. We returned to bed. He laid me down gently on the pillows, the mattress giving under the weight of our bodies.

"Now…" he said with half-lidded eyes, "Where were we?"

He was on top of me in an instant and my legs parted at once. God, I couldn't believe how wet I was already and Maxon grinned at the discovery. "I remember," he muttered, his voice thick with sex as he ran the tip of his granite hardened cock against my entrance. And pushed.

And a moan of utter pleasure escaped me.

From that day forward our bedroom was ours. Our rules, our sanctuary, our paradise. With no damn interruptions.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **This idea came to me in the middle of the night and I had to write it!**

 **Okay my faithful readers, don't forget to POST a review! I love that you guys are reading but PLEASE, PLEASE POST! Your reviews are like precious golden nuggets I want to hoard and they inspire me to keep these stories going!**

 **If you left a review for** **Chapter 11 see my replies in the "Reviews" section.**

 **If you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.**

 **If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the** ** _"Guidelines for Special Requests"_** **posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".**

 **Stay tuned for the next Bedtime Story!**


	13. Pass the Strawberry Tarts, Please

**Author's Notes:**

 **America has a little trouble sharing and it's up to Maxon to teach her a lesson.**

 **This story line features a couple of ideas by many readers with a special shout-out to Erin! I also want to thank a Guest Reviewer for their suggestion of a story featuring Maxon and his very talented tongue.**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 **" _Pass the Strawberry Tarts, Please._ "**

 **~Mornings are all about coffee and good sex~**

 _ **~ Maxon**_

"Well, sweetheart, it seems that the Spring bazaar was a great success with the public. The newspaper is full of nothing but glowing commentary," I say, sitting at the small, round table next to the balcony doors with America enjoying a breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon and Cook's famous strawberry tarts. We had requested the meal be brought to our room in lieu of having to dress for a formal breakfast in the dining room. Feeling the need for quietude and seclusion after yesterday's event I didn't need much persuasion. Besides, I would use any excuse to spend time locked up in my bedroom with my lovely wife whose bared shoulders, seemed to glow under the kiss of morning light. Her red hair was tied up in a lovely messy bun and loose wisps framed her beautiful face. A warmth spread through my chest. No matter how many times in a day I looked at her, she always made me feel like this. Lucky. Loved. Lustful. America's foot is propped on my thigh under the table and I languidly rub her foot and caress the length of her calf up to her knee. I loved the short, little night things America wore. But I loved them even more when they ended up tossed across the room.

America smiles sweetly. "It was a group effort. So many hands pitched in. Everyone was unbelievable. And it was so nice to see all of the girls yesterday," she muses.

 _'Not all of them,'_ I think but instead say, setting the newspaper aside, "From what I heard, the former Selected were a highlight as always."

"I'm so happy Elise decided to come. Did you notice how taken Maximilian was with her?"

Max Renfro was the eldest son and heir to an enormous textile empire and one of the most sought after bachelors. What a mother wouldn't do to see her daughter betrothed to a man of such great wealth and power...that is, if they could only turn a blind eye to his bad boy status.

"Was he? Hmm...Can't say I did."

"Really, Maxon? It was so obvious!" She gestures in disbelief. "Maximilian has his own virtual harem flock to his side wherever he tends to go. But yesterday he only had eyes for our Elise."

I stare blankly which makes her shake her head.

"Why you males are so oblivious to these sorts of things, I will never understand." America huffs, bringing her glass of orange juice to her mouth.

"Because darling, we just are. Matchmaking is not in our DNA." I grin and take a bite of buttered toast.

Knowing her efforts at the subject would be wasted on me, she rolls her eyes foregoing any further discussion of anyone else's love life and instead says, "Personally, I'm thrilled that we exceeded our fundraising goal. I think the people are really backing our efforts."

"And why wouldn't they support you, sweetheart? You're their queen. They love you." I lean over the table, kiss her and then empty my coffee mug. Dressed in only loose, midnight blue, not black, according to America, pajama bottoms, I get up and take a hearty stretch. A soft breeze carrying the familiar scent of jasmine makes the sheer curtains billow in its wake. I grab my empty coffee mug. My bare feet pad over to the breakfast nook where the silver carafe of steaming coffee rests.

America gives me a small laugh. "You're my husband. And biased at that." Her voice says from behind me as I pour creamer and fill my mug to the brim.

"I think not," I tell her over my shoulder. I take a sip. Damn, that's good! There's nothing that makes me feel more alive than a steaming cup of joe...well, second to my wife, of course. Quickly rejoining her, I pick up the newspaper after swallowing another good sip from my refilled mug, unfolding it with a hearty snap. "Listen to this:

 _"'The event, hosted by our lovely Queen America was set on the backdrop of the Palace's sprawling, manicured lawns. The Royal gardens, bursting with the season's first blooms, thanks to our warm Angeles weather, gleamed with a touch of paradise under clear blue skies but, it was the Queen's warm, welcoming smile and gracious hospitality that truly marked it's success.'"_

"I think they're much, much too complimentary, Maxon," she blushes. America never liked to take much credit for the work that went into planning these events even though I knew the load of responsibility she really shouldered. Nevertheless, every venture needed a leader and my darling was a ship's captain if I ever saw one. Watching her maneuver so many moving parts or how she seemed to put out fires before they spread was a talent I admired and made my heart swell. America was perfection.

I huff. "Too complimentary? Of my wife? Hardly! I would take issue with them if they weren't singing your praises enough." I instinctively take hold of her hand and kiss the back. The sweet, fragrance of vanilla wafts up my nostrils. My heart skips a beat.

Clearing my throat, I return to the paper. "This is my favorite part by the way," I cock a brow at her, my eyes soon falling to the contents of the newspaper article. I continue reading, _"The Queen was a vision of spring beauty herself,_ _dressed in a soft pink Christian Siriano day dress; ever the standard of elegance and fashion."_

"Oh stop, Maxon." Her cheeks bloom with a slight blush.

"I couldn't agree more. You looked stunning. And those legs," I give a low whistle, wiggling my brows.

"Oh! You're impossible!" She exclaims, pitching her cloth napkin at me. I chuckle as I let it hit my face. I set the napkin aside and continue...

 _"In her address to those gathered, Queen America's message was delivered with passion and heartfelt sentiment. '"We must progress together as a nation, united,"' said the Queen. "Each citizen of_ _Illéa_ _should have equal opportunity to prosper for themselves,_ _their families and community. By offering education and skills useful in the workforce, we not only strengthen the individual but we strengthen the core of our nation. We must continue to look toward a future were the distinction between castes is a thing we will read only in our history books. As your Queen but mostly as your friend and ally I am proud to stand before your smiling faces today as we take the necessary steps, however small they may appear to a better way of life for all and to a stronger Illéa."_

I fold the newspaper and once again set it aside. I reach for her delicate hand, rubbing my thumbs over her delicate fingers. "Not only are you stunningly beautiful but absolutely brilliant, and kind and witty and...so many other...wonderful things." I whisper over the soft skin on the back of her hand. "How did I ever get this lucky?" My lips spread into a smile against her skin.

"You are lucky."

My smile broadens. "You wicked thing."

"Anyway..." she pauses, a flicker of suspicion glints in her blue eyes when our eyes meet. They seem to sparkle, only exciting me further. America plucks her fingers away. "Don't look at me like that, Maxon..."

"Like what?" I ask, boyishly, sitting staighter in my seat though my eyes never leave hers as a different sort of hunger begins to swell that part of me that she has become especially fond of. I scoot my chair around the short circumference of the table to sit next to her. My arm drapes around the backrest of her chair and I dip my head, brushing my lips and tip of my nose over the curvature of her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she asks and I can sense the smile on her lips. I hear her inhale a shaky breath. Morning sex was always something I looked forward to. And currently, blood began thrumming through my body, down to that part of me safely tucked away in pajama bottoms but that had now been fully alerted to an opportunity.

America ignores my not so subtle hints and proceeds to open the letter delivered with breakfast. Of course, I'm a man with a mission and I proceed undeterred.

"It's from Nicoletta," she says and I merely reply with a, "Mhmm," against the shell of her ear. My attention is fully focused on America as my open hand slips over her rib cage, my thumb brushing past the underside curvature of a breast.

"Well, that won't do."

"Will this?" I say, my hand dipping between her thighs. She yelps and slaps it away. The scolding disengages my lips from her neck. Still not dissuaded, I proceed, nibbling her ear. Does she not realize how badly I want inside her right now?

"Nicoletta wants us to come to visit in August. I don't think we'll be able to manage it." She makes a little sigh. It doesn't sound like a sex sigh.

"Why not?" I continue kissing her shoulder, hoping to distract her from whatever Nicoletta's message is...for now.

"It's your birthday, Maxon."

"And there are thirty-one days in the month. I'm sure we can spare a week or so." My lips trace the ridge of her collarbone, peppering soft, ghostly kisses. Her head falls back.

A small moan escapes her as the tips of my fingers skim over a swollen breast, over her hardened, pebbled nipple hidden under her white nighty. Definitely a good sign. "I'll be busy planning your celebration," she replies throatily.

Spell broken, I groan, falling back into my own chair. "Please don't." I rake my fingers through my hair. "You know how much I hate all of that attention on me."

America, having regained her wits quickly, turns in her seat to face me. She wears a sympathetic smile. She rakes her fingers through my hair. "Don't be a spoil sport. You'll just have to put up with all of that attention." I frown. She taps my nose with the tip of her index finger. "It's only for a day."

"Why can't _we_ celebrate...just the two of us?"

"Because you're king and the nation wants to celebrate the birth of their Sovereign ruler. It's that simple." America reaches for a tart, satisfied that her reasoning for a birthday bash is sufficient and takes a bite of the strawberry filled pastry.

"If you're that insistent on a party then," I say, watching her chew with delight, "What sort of gift should I expect from my lovely queen?"

She raises her brows, glancing at me sideways as she swallows. "I don't know yet. You'll have to wait and see." She licks the smearing of strawberry filling from a couple of fingers. My eyes are transfixed on how her lips wrap around her digits. I want those lips on my semi-hardened cock.

"Can I have you totally naked, wrapped in a big, red bow...waiting in bed for me? And allow me make love to you all day long?"

"You have me pretty much every day. Several times some days."

"I haven't yet," I murmur, a hand now on her bare thigh.

"Your appetite for me is just as insatiable as mine is for Cook's strawberry tarts," she teases me, lifting another pastry to her lips. "I can't get enough of these." America bites into the tart and closes her eyes. Her chest rises in an inhale followed by a deliciously languid moan which fills our space. Damn. How can anyone make eating a tart so incredibly sexual?

I give a small chuckle attempting to hide my swelling desire. "He was kind enough to make us one last batch before leaving on vacation this morning."

"Cook's the best. Mmmm...so...so good," she smiles in reverie behind closed lids as she leans back against the chair. "Mmmm..." she sighs contentedly.

My fascination and hunger only grow as I watch her sweep her tongue over her lips. "I've never met anyone that can make eating a strawberry tart seem utterly sinful."

She bursts into laughter. Her face is radiant and her eyes...God those eyes just thrill me as they light up. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do until Cook gets back. I just _looove_ these tarts." Again, she slowly sucks on those fingers making my readied cock, twitch.

I swallow trying to gain control of my...faculties. "We all love Cook's tarts."

"Do you know what he puts in them? His tarts are the only ones I've ever eaten that are so flaky, so buttery and so perfectly sweetened...and...Ohhh...sooo..." Her eyes dilated! Actually dilated as she reached for another tart.

"I don't know what his special recipe is but it looks like it has a very...ahem...special affect on you, my darling."

"I know." A sigh. "I'm wretched, aren't I? Somehow...it's almost as good as an orgasm."

I snicker, my pride a bit touched. "I would hope you aren't making any comparison to the ones I give you, darling."

America laughs. Leaning just so, she plants a sweet kiss to my lips, whispers against them, "I said...almost." She intoxicates me and I take advantage slipping past her lips with my tongue. The taste of sweet strawberries coats her tongue as it sweeps over mine. Delicious. Decadent. She is a dessert I am ready to devour.

"Tastes, orgasmic," I tease, undoing the clip that holds her hair. It falls over my hand like a silken sheet. I toss the clip aside someplace.

America smiles against my mouth then pulls on my bottom lip with her teeth. Damn her for being so wickedly tantalizing. My heart thunders in my chest. It wouldn't take much effort to ravish her. She was asking for it indeed! For she had me damn stiff and ready to go.

Suddenly, I feel a shift; my direction altered when she pops a tart in my mouth. It bursts with flavor. Involuntarily, my eyes fall close. Everyone of my senses concentrates on the tastes dancing over my tongue, filtering through my body making it cry out for more. It's as if every taste bud inside my mouth clamours for another. Is this what America feels? I hadn't reacted to Cook's tarts like this before.

I shift positions to sit more comfortably next to her, my pressing need for sex, somewhat dulled.

"Did you feel it?" Her bright eyes ask me.

I utter no confession or denial.

"You did!"

I take a breath. "Pass the strawberry tarts, please." I hear her giggle but my eyes widen in shock as they veer to the dish. Empty. The plate is dusted with remnants of nothing but buttery, flaky crumbs. My eyes fix on America as she sits there ready to bite into the last tart.

"There were eight tarts on the plate. I've only had two." She looks unmoved by my protest and regards me with a smug arch to her brow.

"Were there? Huh. Well...you snooze, you lose," she retorts, adding a one-shouldered shrug.

A little spark of annoyance flickers deep inside my chest. Did she think she was the only one Cook had especially made his delicious tarts for? Apparently!

"But...America...darling..." I plead softly, trying to talk her into giving up that last delicioud tart, "Is it fair that you've eaten six?"

"Five...only five." Her hand fans out.

"Okay. Then, won't you give me the last tart?"

"You mean... _this_ strawberry tart?" She feigns shock, waving it before my eyes. "The last tart...in _my_ possession?"

"Please..." I smile through gritted teeth, seeing she wasn't even going to be gracious enough and offer. "Sweetheart...love of my heart...please, let me have the last tart."

This was my America. She was kind, fair, self-sacrificing. Certainly she would give it to me.

A brief moment of silence and then her reply. "Nope."

Curt. Impassive. Unsympathetic.

My eyes narrow and I reach for the tart but she senses my attack and in a split second she leaps out of her chair. In a split second, I bolt, my chair clattering to the marble floor. America screams, laughing as she narrowly avoids my grip.

"America! Don't you eat that tart!" I command, my tone a low growl as she runs around the bedpost and straight up on to the bed. She stands in the middle of the mattress taunting me with the tart, mercilessly waving the pastry in front of me again.

"I can't let you have it! I _NEEEEED_ this tart!"

"America...I'm warning you!" The words rumble from my throat.

"If you want it that bad then come and get it." She taunts, her eyes screaming with challenge.

I rush to the bed and dive unto the mattress. She screams but escapes my grasp again. I roll off the bed on her side landing deftly on my feet. America takes off running around the bedpost again, stepping up unto the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed and jumps off the other end to my side of the bedroom. Giggles and laughter boom around me. I curse as I almost trip over the damn bench which drives her into another fit of screams and giggles. I pursue, reach for her and barely graze the soft material of her skimpy nighty. She's spry, I'll give her that much but I won't be denied. I'm getting my tart! She makes for the door adjoining our rooms but in less than ten seconds thereafter, I have her pinned against the door. She's laughing and I find her beautifully amusing, cheeks flushed, eyes beaming mischieviously until she shoves the entire tart into her mouth.

I stand there, open-mouthed. _She did not just eat **MY** tart?!_

"Mmm... _sooooo_ delicious," she mumbles, eyes closed, savoring the last of the pastry, strawberry filling smearing her lips.

I watch as her throat bobs, speechless and in disbelief as she swallows.

America licks her fingers. "Almost..." she says, breathless, "as good...as an orgasm."

A wicked, mischievous grin of my own spreads across my face. "We'll see about that, you little scamp." I grunt and I hear America yelp as I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "You're going to pay for this little stunt!" America demands to be put down, kicking her feet, flailing her arms but I'm not listening. I take her back to bed. "I am going to teach you a valuable lesson, sweetheart."

"Maxon Schreave! You set me down right this instant!"

"Your wish is my command."

I set her down and take a seat on the edge of our bed. A squeak of surprise rises out of her. Before she knows it, I've draped her over my lap. Bottom up. I can't begin to utter the millions of thank-you's that flood my mind for the very short nighty she had chosen to wear. It rises way above her waist revealing her scrap of white, lacy underwear. My lips tug into a wide grin. She squirms, seeking purchase against the edge of the mattress to escape but I hold her firm with one arm draped around her back.

"What do you think you're doing, Maxon?" she demands looking at me over her shoulder.

"Teaching you a lesson, darling." I spit into both my palms and rub them together.

"W...Wha..."

I cut her off. "This is going to..." I pause, "I was going to say hurt me more than it hurts you but I'd be lying. I think I'm really going to enjoy this."

"Maxon Schr.. _OW!_ "

The loud crack of my hand against the mass of her round bottom resonates like a boom around us. The first swat lands exactly on her right cheek and as I deliver a second smack on her ass, harder than the first, she cries, "That hurts!" She wriggles but I continue to hold her still, delivering two more booming smacks on her fine ass.

A string of curses follow suit.

"Tsk, tsk. Such words out of the queen's mouth...shameful. I think I'm going to have to add to your punishment, my darling."

My own excitement surges as I see the red marks of my strikes bloom on her ivory bottom. I bite my lower lip as a thrill of ownership sizzles inside my veins, making me fevered and lustful. I find the elastic waist to her panties and begin to tug them off. I adjust America on my knees as she flails her legs.

"I can't believe you! You stop that right now...I'm..."

"That's better," I say over America's growing protest of killing me. "Such a nice ass to slap," I comment as I rub my open palm over her reddened bottom.

"Maxon! This is crazy! It's just a tart!"

 _SMACK_!

" _OUCH!_ Be reasonable!"

"You deserve to be punished, don't you?"

"I…I don't… _OW!"_ Another strike. "Dammit!" she cries. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Then you haven't learned your lesson, have you? You deserved to be spanked, America. Perhaps maybe you'll learn to share next time not to deprive your king."

I find that I am definitely enjoying this so I'm quick to resume my punishment. With each slap I land on her voluptuous derrière, I pronounce in no uncertain terms: " **I** _*smack!_ **Won't** _*swat!_ **Eat** _*snap!_ **Maxon's** _*swat!_ **Strawberry** _*smack!_ **Tarts!** " _*snap!_

With each strike a little cry of a whimper, squeal or random curse escapes her. Each little sound is a musical note to my ears and I devour each one she gives me. Each cry feeds this growing hunger in my belly. Blood is pumping, rushing to my cock. By the time I'm through, America's bottom is a field of red blossoms. And damn! What a beautiful sight. I'm so damn hard I can barely stand it. I rub her bottom, feeling the heat of her flesh against my palm and I just want to plunge myself into the depths of her scorching heat **.** Goosebumps rise, covering my arms and my nerves feel like they've been charged, buzzing as if struck by lightning. America is breathing hard. I can feel her rib cage expand with oxygen and contract on exhale against my thighs. She isn't putting up a fight any longer. Silence descends upon us and my curiosity is piqued. I extend a digit, my middle one, reaching for the crease between her legs. She stiffens as if trying to keep some secret from me. She gasps. I grin.

"I...I've learned…my lesson!" she squeals, an attempt at distraction. "I...pr...promise..." I hear her say through a series of shaky breaths as she clenches her thighs together but it's too late. I discover her wet, dripping and sensitive. "I swear...I won't eat...OHHH!" she exclaims as I brush that little sensitive nub of her sex. She sucks in air as if she's straining for breath and shakily exhales as I tease her entrance. "Eat...your tarts...ever again."

My heart is slamming in my chest. This is so damn hot but I control my words, not giving my own excitement away though I'm certain she can feel it clearly pressing against her stomach. "I'm glad we're agreed on that but..." I add, biting my bottom lip, "You still owe me a tart."

"But...but I ate the last one," she laments, looking over at me. She looks absolutely beautiful in her surrender, her face glowing with a lovely flush of color.

An idea springs to mind in seconds. It's wicked but I'm game and I'll be damned if she'll ever forget this day. She thinks eating those tarts is almost as good as an orgasm? I'll have her thinking twice, no thrice on that. It's a challenge but I knew I could do it especially as excited as she was...

"Don't worry," I console, "I have what I want...right here." I easily slip a finger past her entrance, slide into her slick warmth, deep to my knuckles. She moans and I feel her tighten around my finger. I add a second; she moans louder and pushes into my hand. I'm breathing hard myself as I finger her, listening to her panting breaths, feeling the muscles of her sex clamping around me. Her bottom greedily arches against my fingers. "Easy now," I caress her back with my free hand, soothing her hiking desperation. "I wouldn't want you wasting it on my fingers."

She whimpers as I withdraw my fingers. I suck them off and make sure she hears my approval. I turn America into the bed, laying her on her back. Her face is flushed and draped in nothing but sexual need and a plea for release. Dropping purposely slow to my knees, I prop her legs over my shoulders and yank her bottom of the edge of the mattress.

My head is cradled between her creamy, ivory thighs and I can see the visible effects of her excitement trapped in the downy field of her sex. My mouth waters.

America leans up on her elbows, watching me as I take two eyefuls of her swollen womanhood.

I lock my gaze on her. "It's time to pay the Piper, darling. I'm really…going to enjoy this."

Proceeding to gently part her delicate folds with my index and middle fingers, "So pretty," I murmur and blow softly over her dampened womanhood, purposely over her clit and America makes an unrecognizable sound; a mixture of a whimper and a cry and falls back on the mattress.

Leaning my head forward so my ears are now snug between her luscious thighs, I lave over her sweetness. My ears perk as she coo's, melting against my mouth with every flick and circle of my tongue. Her fingers dive into my hair, another clear signal that she's loving my oral play. I probe her with my tongue, moving it deep inside her like a snake seeking to burrow itself in its aperture. I want to provoke her to madness. I want to pitch her into oblivion. But not yet. I persist, sucking and licking, diving into her with a stiff tongue. I feel the flex of her inner thighs against my face and with a flat hand, I gently press along the taut muscles of her flat stomach easing her into relaxing, allowing me to penetrate further. She responds and her inner thighs loosen. I know exactly how she likes it and I pleasure her, taking time to give her exquisite attention and when I wrap my lips around her swollen, tented hood, she erupts, spilling her honeyed offering unto my tongue as her angelic voice rises in a note of rapture. I clamp my lips on her clit to torture her further and she pushes away from my mouth, writhing in her own ecstasy.

I don't give her a moment to recover. Flipping her over unto her stomach I tell her, "I'm not through with you yet, darling." I command her, "Come on, sweetheart. Get on your hands and knees for me." She obeys without a word of protest. I gentle her upper body down while I tilt her hips up. Running my hands over her reddened ass, I instruct for her to part her legs wider. Once she complies, I bury my face in her sweet spot from behind.

"Fuck!" she mutters. I feel her tug on the bed sheets as if she were using them to anchor herself, her world, but I don't allow her ease. She tries to pull away but I hold on to the front of her thighs, keeping her flushed against my mouth as I invade her...thoroughly. I grab on to her ass, digging my fingers into her flesh. I want her to feel my control in every way. I find that little protrusion of her sex and proceed to beat it with the tip of my tongue. I feel her tug tighter on the sheets and she's moaning continually. I'm unforgiving in my approach. I want control. I have control. Her body responds to it and begins to spasm and I know how close she is to spilling. She attempts to call out my name "Max...Max...Ohhh!" Another orgasm overtakes her just as hard as the first and I savor her offering with glee knowing I've brought her to such heights and plunged her mercilessly into a chasm of pure delight.

She falls spent on the bed. I drape my body over her just to see her clutching a fistful of sheets between her teeth. America's breaths are harsh as if she's been running without a break.

"Bet you never had a tart make you come like that."

"Bastard."

I chuckle and turn her over to face me. "I love the way you taste." I'm fired and I want nothing more than to shatter her again. I pin her arms over her head and burn her body with nips and kisses...brushes of my tongue. Her chest heaves, as I push the nighty off her shoulders, releasing her breasts. They rise like two perfectly shaped mountains and I capture a pebbled nipple; suck on it...hard; then the other...harder. She whimpers and writhes against me. I let her arms go as I move down her body and push her legs with one full force apart.

"Ohhh god!" she screams, her fingers wrapped in my hair as I descend on her a third time eating her luscious pussy like a man possessed. Her bottom lifts off the mattress and I feel her trying to hold back.

"Give it to me." I utter the words against her sweet folds.

"I...can't." Her words are strained.

"I want it, America. Give it to me." And drawing her clit in between my lips, I suckle her, my head moving in gentle motions between her legs. I don't want to use my hands. That was too easy. The challenge I'd given myself was to get her off with only my mouth.

Her pelvis tightens and I know it's only a matter of seconds. Her hands reach for me. Our fingers thread and she squeezes my hands as she cries out. Her legs tremble. A third orgasm sends her into oblivion. I release her and feel the quaking of her thighs brush my face. I pull back, content as I watch her body racked in ecstasy.

"Maxon!" she whisper-calls to me once she can speak.

 **"** What is it darling?" I'm leaning over her, and can see she is begging to be filled. Her hands are at the waist band of my bottoms, tugging down. I stop her.

"Make love to me. Pleease...please...I need you...I"

"Shhh..." I can feel her fever, her eyes hazed with sex, the tips of her breasts brushing against my chest with every heaving breath. She whimpers. "I want you to say, "Maxon, I want you to fuck me...please." She whimpers louder. "Say it, America."

"Maxon, I want you to fuck me...please."

"Of course you do."

She bites her bottom lip and then captures my mouth. It's a hard, savage kind of kiss. My bottoms disappear in an instant as does her nighty and with a push of my knees the juncture of her femininity is exposed to my eager cock. I glide the tip of my manhood over her entrance, fighting every instinct of my body that pants to ram into her as she undulates against my head. At last, coated with her essence, relief crackles through me as we join, fitted in and around the other in pure bliss. My control leaves in a flash. I seize her fully with one deep thrust and I can't stop myself. Thrusting. Writhing. Tupping. Fucking. I seize her wrists and cuff them above her head with my hands. The bed pulses and creaks with gusto as I find my rhythm and my own pleasure inside her heated depth; along the silken walls of paradise. We are lost in each other and how in the world did we end up here, clearly forgotten. But her body dances in unison with mine. America pulls me in with mind, body and soul. Her legs fold around my waist and I hook my hands under her shoulders bringing her that much closer, tapping her end with my tip and she begins to ripple around me, sending the signal it's time for me to join her too. And I do. I hear myself, a guttural, rumbling growl as America milks my release into her body and I feel the pulsating relief as I explode.

I collapse on top of her, breathless, dizzy. I roll over unto my back.

"Oh my god..." she says, as she too lays motionless on her back. "That was fantastic. So fucking fantastic." We are both breathing hard. But then she says, "Do you think my theory about..."

"No darling. Its my dick."

She bursts out laughing. "You don't say." America turns on her side and props her head on an arm. "I just love the humility." She drops a kiss on my dampened chest. "Your instrument is fabulous indeed. And that magical tongue. How you can make it do such wicked things."

"I think that was 3 orgasms using only my wicked tongue...but who's counting?"

She smiles down at me, whispers, "Such a wicked, wicked tongue..." and goads me in to an open-mouthed kiss. Once the kiss ends, she muses, "I can't believe you actually spanked me! My bottom," she adds, looking back at her rose colored cheeks, "May not ever be so forgiving of you, though." With her bottom lip jutted out, she pouts at me.

I run a thumb over that gorgeous bottom lip. My body still hums from our morning romp. "Hmm..." I reply lazily, "you deserved it."

"Does this mean then, that whenever I don't listen to you from now on, you'll spank me?"

"I can arrange it."

"I might like that."

I can't help my rumbling laughter as I pull her into me.

"I will hand it to you my Royal Husbandness. You are much more orgasmic than any strawberry tart I've ever had the pleasure of enjoying. Spanking and all."

 _SLAP!_

"MAXON!"

* * *

 ** _FINALLY!..._ _FINALLY!_ After months of trying to come up with an idea that would fit a "spanking" story line for all you naughty readers out there, I hope you enjoyed! What did you think about this chapter? **

**Okay faithful supporters of my stories, don't forget to POST a review! I loved all the responses from the last chapter so keep them coming!**

 **If you left a review for** **Chapter 12 see my replies in the "Reviews" section.**

 **If you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.**

 **If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the** ** _"Guidelines for Special Requests"_** **posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".**

 **Stay tuned for the next Bedtime Story!**


	14. Happy Birthday, Your Majesty!

**Author's Notes:**

 **According to Kiera, August 23rd is Maxon's birthday!**

 **Maxon never liked to fuss over his birthday but when America throws him a bash, memories from the past and another woman threaten to ruin his special day. Will America's birthday present be enough to save the day?**

 **A birthday story/present was a Guest Reviewer suggestion. I took the liberty of making this a little darker since this is what I imagined would happen in the timeline. But it's also full of sexy fun!**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Happy Birthday, Your Majesty!"**_

 **Today is your special day**  
 **And I'm going to be**  
 **Your personal Genie**  
 **Every wish of yours**  
 **Will be fulfilled, my lord**

 _ **~ Maxon**_

"Happy Birthday, Your Majesty!"

My footsteps echo on the marble floor as I walk down the main hall steep in my own thoughts only to be snapped out of them by the smiling faces that greet me wherever I go.

"Happy Birthday, King Maxon!"

And around every corner. "Happy Birthday!"

A pair of maids stop their duties on my approach and curtsy, their eyes bright and cheeks dusted with a touch of red– they regard me with a strange awe that still makes me feel uncomfortable. "Happy Birthday, Your Majesty!" They greet in unison.

"Thank you, ladies." I paste on a smile and nod; hear their giggles soon behind me as I continue on. I sigh.

Today is my birthday.

The palace is already busy with activity and will be full of family and guests tonight in celebration but, today I don't share their joy. I should feel happy. Aren't most people happy on the day they were born? I suppose. Maybe? I feel melancholy and I know why. I've tried to shove my somber thoughts aside but it's been nearly impossible. As my birthday drew closer, the memories only became more persistent, more invasive.

"Happy Birthday, Your Majesty," greet the guards standing at the door to the gardens.

I thank them with a gracious smile. Ask them if they will have an opportunity to join the celebration tonight. They respectfully confirm they will and issue their personal thank-you's for being included. It had really been America's idea. She wanted to include as much staff as possible in the festivities.

 _'They are at the front lines who offer you support every day, Maxon. They are the bricks of this place...and you are the mortar that keeps it together,'_ she had said. God, I love that woman.

I am humbled that it means that much to them. I tell them I hope they enjoy themselves at the festivities and recalling America's words, extend a further invitation to have them introduce their guests personally to me and the queen at the affair. They're left somewhat speechless, searching for words of gratitude.

"The wife won't believe it when I tell her. I thank you, Your Majesty," says one with a bow.

"It's very kind of you, Your Majesty. I don't know how to thank you," the other echoes.

Such a small gesture that I still can't comprehend this sort of reaction. It's just me but I've gotten used to these responses over the years. Not that it washes away the uneasiness I feel. America tells me I represent hope in their eyes, something bigger than themselves and that there isn't anything wrong with feeling the way I do but either way, I must accept what I am. I am their king. And they have affection for me.

It's a strange feeling nonetheless to have virtual strangers regard one with such esteem.

I step out into the gardens, grateful for the fresh morning air I breathe deep into my lungs. I close my eyes, taking two more deep breaths; my chest expands filling my lungs. The exercise seems to calm my mind a little and ease the tension in my muscles. I open my eyes and take in the beauty around me. The roses are in splendid summer bloom, their heads full and heavy with color and scent. Their natural beauty makes the corner of my mouth lift into a smile even among my restless thoughts because they make me think of America. So delicate and beautiful yet sturdy and commanding. I left her asleep, quietly sneaking out of bed before daylight, not wishing to wake her. She's been busy these past few weeks preparing for this day and I didn't want her to see me like this. I owe her so much and I want to make her happy. I have to pull myself together.

Shoving my hands in my pockets I walk over to our bench and take a seat. This has become my favorite spot in the gardens. Memories of the night I met America flood back crystal clear as if we had met only yesterday. It's hard to believe that six months have gone by since we were married and each day just proves to be better than the last. I chide myself a bit. I should feel happy today of all days. I get to spend every day with the love of my life. I have a family and real friends who I love and cherish. I have a kingdom that although not perfect, is healing. I have a people that love me and yet, still I feel a hole in my heart. I close my eyes once more, the images that appear are stronger now than ever. The voices louder. My heart aches and I try to swallow the knot that's formed in my throat.

Pull your damn self together. I concentrate on the mantra. It's an internal battle. The negative consuming the positive like a leech sucking on life's blood. But, I'm determined. Pull yourself together...Pull...

"A penny for your thoughts?"

My eyes flash open to see America standing there, a gentle squeeze on my shoulder. I swallow that infernal knot lodged in my throat, fighting the images that an instant ago choked me. I hadn't heard her approach.

"Sweetheart," I greet, pasting that smile back on my face. "What're you doing here?" I chuckle lightly, take her hand and tenderly kiss the back of it. I feel the tremble in my fingers and fight immediately for control.

"What are _you_ doing out here?" she asks, smiling sweetly at me. She melts my heart. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You were gone when I woke up. I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday," she pouts. She's so cute when she does that.

"I'm sorry, darling," I say, pulling her to sit next to me on the bench. "You've been so busy. I didn't want to disturb you. We do have a long day ahead of us." I lean into her, pressing my lips softly against hers. Her small hand cups the side of my face and she moans, parting her lips in invitation. Her savory tongue sweeps over mine and my despondent feelings dim.

"Happy Birthday," she whispers against my mouth.

"Is this a prelude to my birthday present?" I smile, tugging her lower lip with my teeth. A grin flashes across my lips hearing her exhale a quivering breath.

America pushes against my chest. "Oh no, you don't," she smiles knowingly.

"It's my birthday. Don't I get my every wish granted? Tell me...is there buttercream icing involved?" I ask in that husky tone that I know for sure makes her tingle.

She arches one of her brows as our eyes lock and I'm confident I know exactly the images she's at this very second recalling– her naked breasts, dressed in buttercream frosting... my tongue making slow, swirling patterns on her delicious mounds. I feel myself harden at the memory. And a mischievious smile, the one that tells me we're sharing the same thoughts, parts her supple, kissable lips but she says nothing. Instead America slides her fingers in a zipper motion across those luscious lips. I smirk, adding, "Well, whatever it is," I say, taking her hand and brushing my thumb over the pulse of her wrist, "I'm going to certainly enjoy sinking my..."

"Teeth?," she interjects making me chuckle.

"That and other more...pleasurable parts of me."

"You assume, my husband that your gift is me."

"What else would I want?" My eyes fall to her mouth and I pull her to me; kiss her softly, sensually. A kiss promising so much more.

"Such a lethal weapon might weaken my resolve long enough to divulge all of my secrets." She breathes against my lips, her fingers clutching the lapel of my suit jacket.

"I must be losing my touch then," I joke. "You've kept it under such a tight lid."

She murmurs, "You have no idea."

I grin then kiss her forehead and look at her with a love my chest can barely contain; a love as deep as the ocean blue. There's a moment of silence as I take her in– every feature of her lovely face.

"What?" She asks, pulling back to examine that look I've just given her more fully.

"Have I ever told you how happy you make me?"

"Until I make you attend your own birthday celebration?" Her blue eyes sparkle under the morning light.

"My mother..." The words, my thoughts slip. I bite them back wretchedly, quickly shifting my eyes to the grass beneath our feet, trying to stifle those damn images that have haunted me, wishing she doesn't notice.

"Maxon?" So much for wishes. I can hear America's concern clearly in her soft inquiry. "What's the matter?" If anyone can see right through me, open my heart to see what laid inside, it was her.

I shake my head, dare to meet her eyes. "It's nothing, sweetheart." I cover with a kiss on her hand.

"Maxon..." The sound of my name sweetly spoken on her lips is all it takes.

I take a deep breath before I dare speak another syllable, not trusting the unsteady tenor of my voice. "It's just...I miss them, you know." Her fingers tighten around mine. She knows of whom I speak. "They were alive my last birthday," I offer, recalling that day. My eyes are focused on our threaded fingers because I don't want her to see the pain I feel etched on my face.

"My father had given me these cuff links," I gesture, tilting a wrist to show her the silver accent pinned through the buttonhole of the sleeve of my white dress shirt. "He had forgotten he'd given me cuff links for Christmas," I smile gravely. "But all the same, right? At least he cared enough to remember his only heir." I pause, take another breath. My father was a damn bastard but he was my father. "My mother on the other hand, with the Selection just weeks ahead gave me the most precious gift of all. She told me the night of my birthday, she would support whatever choice I made. Whichever girl I wanted no matter her caste. I'd like to think..." I raise my eyes daring to look at America, "that you were my gift from her."

America sucks in a breath, her eyes stunned wide at my words. Then presses her mouth to mine, her hand clasps about the nape of my neck. "I love you," she whispers, her breath mingling with mine. "I'm sorry they can't be here too."

Would it always be like this? I wondered. Would every big occasion in my life feel the void they'd left behind? I felt that loss on my wedding day. Will it be there at every holiday? Will it, the day our first child is born?

"My father would've given the birthday toast as he had every year." But not today. That honor now fell to my brother-in-law, Kota, being the closest male relative.

"I'm sorry," America laments.

"Knowing Kota, I'm sure it'll be a very lively speech." We both manage to chuckle.

"I'm twenty today, America. And I didn't have them long enough."

America slides into my arms, resting her head on my shoulder. "I know."

I close my eyes, burying my nose in her hair, letting her comfort become a part of me.

* * *

 ** _~ That evening..._**

My somber mood dissipates and eventually silences to something dull in the back of my head as I accept the well wishes of my guests, the handshakes, the kind gestures; the hugs and kisses from my family and closest friends. I smile, genuinely so at every one of them and I feel especially grateful for my beautiful wife. Although I had been resistant, this gathering of smiling faces makes me appreciate that life is all too short and every day we are granted to live is indeed it's own precious gift. I let that thought center me as I take it all in.

My mother had definitely been right. As I look around the elegantly decorated room, where white linen cloths draped the tables, tall vases with little white lights that seemed submerged in water serve as centerpieces and where on top of each place setting rests a small confection box tied with black and royal blue ribbons (I had snuck one earlier to find a chocolate trufle with a monogrammed _"M"_ in white chocolate on top. Cook's talent never ceasing to amaze). My wife did indeed wish to celebrate me with a lavish bash and not wanting to disappoint her either, I make sure to enjoy myself.

"Did you see your cake, Maxon?! It's ginormous!" May stretches her arms wide. "I think it's bigger than me!"

"Ginormous?" I laugh. "You don't say?"

She crooks her finger, beckoning for me to lean down to whisper in my ear, "Don't tell America. But I sneaked some frosting from the corner. It's your favorite! Buttercream!"

"Is it, now?"

"Come on! You gotta come see it, Maxon!"

I'm hauled off by my excitable, pint-sized sister-in-law to see my birthday cake and indeed, it was one massive slab smoothly covered in silky, delicious, buttercream icing. I wondered if Cook had any left over.

The celebration proceeded with the usual faire. After the initial flow of drinks and appetizers, we sit down for dinner where my brother-in-law offers the toast and has the room in fits of good laughter at my expense. Even America is amused.

"But all jesting aside, it is an honor to offer this toast. To my brother. To my King. You exemplify everything I hope to one day be. You lead your people with integrity, with honesty and more importantly, with kindness. May your days be long. And may they be full of everything your heart desires. Happy Birthday!"

Glasses raise in my honor as the orchestra begins playing the traditional birthday tune. I am almost overcome at the love in this room and I take in America's flushed, smiling face, the hint of tears rimming her eyes.

She kisses me chastely, whispers against my mouth, "Happy Birthday, my love."

"Thank you." My words are a whisper too as I reign in my emotions. "I love you."

Once dinner is over, livelier music fills the Great Room. Couples take to the dance floor. I take my girls starting with my darling America, then Magda, next Kenna and of course May (twice), for a twirl on the dance floor. I'm in full celebratory spirits now as I mingle with guests, my mother-in-law's hand tucked in the crook of my arm. Magda, ever her vivacious self is dressed in a very flattering, sequined evening dress. My father always said that a girl would grow up to look just like her mother...and from the looks of Magda, I think Shalom could very possibly be rolling in his grave at this very moment.

America's mother is a beautiful woman in her late 40's and certainly has no shortage of eyes glued on her. When she laughs, she reminds me so much of America who currently I find in conversation with a few of the former Selected ladies. Introductions were a constant with the Selected. Eligible suitors of varying ages made no qualms to recite their worthy credentials and name dropping, of course had it's own tantalizing incentive in hopes of snaring one of these highly sought out ladies. Each suitor cast their net, vying for a coveted dance or a private stroll in the moonlit gardens with one of these ladies who had their pick of titles, money and society paraded before them.

I smile, hearing America's laughter over the din of voices and music. My smile fades soon enough as my eyes still on the one person I had little desire to see. Her name had been on the guest list which I supposed, made an encounter clearly unavoidable. She stood alone, near a large arrangement of flowers set on a pedestal, a glass of white wine in hand. Bringing the glass to her mouth she takes a sip, surveying the crowd. Our eyes lock when she raises her eyes from above the rim. Her head tilts to one side and she lifts her glass in salutation.

Kriss Ambers, the woman that came so close to becoming my wife.

I return her greeting with a slight nod of acknowledgement but nothing more. And although I know how deeply hurt she had been, that I had hurt her, she put on a brave face and attended our wedding and never turned down an invitation to a royal function. Few words had passed between us since the Selection and things as expected had grown even more awkward between Kriss and me. A tension had been building over these past months straining the last reserves of my patience and that taut chord snapped during our last encounter.

 _"I've written. You haven't answered any of my letters."_

 _"There's nothing left to say, Kriss."_

 _"Won't you ever forgive me, Maxon?"_

 _"I have."_

 _"Can't we be friends, then? You know my feelings for you haven't changed."_

She had expressed them quite clearly in her letters. Letters I had burned.

 _"I love my wife."_ The words hissed from deep inside. Did she really think me so shallow?

 _"America doesn't need to know."_ Bold and desperate.

Anger bloomed in my chest and revulsion churned in my belly. Even the thought of another woman, of Kriss sharing my bed made me physically ill.

 _"You live among lies, Kriss. That's were you seem to be the most comfortable."_ I had learned in the days after the Selection ended that Kriss had been a Northern rebel spy, the plant that August Illéa had somehow managed to place in the competition.

 _"You have no right to condemn me and forgive her! Or do you not remember, Maxon? America's little secret? That guard in whose arms we..."_

 _"That is enough!"_ I snapped, anger roiling in me, hot and ready to burn. I was not having any more of this. _"I have always loved America. Always! You, on the other hand, were nothing more than a mere convenience."_

The words spewed like venom; my tone dripping with disdain. The flash of pain in her eyes let me know they had hit their mark. I walked away, my fists balled in anger. Her betrayal had we married, would've torn my kingdom apart; would've been a worse blow to me personally than one given at the hand of my worst enemy. That I had even forgiven her deceitful ruse– for that kind mercy she should've let things be. But she hadn't.

My chest tightens with mixed emotions. A part of me wants to apologize for my unkind words but I couldn't do that. Encouragement was the last thing I wished to offer. And as if tugged by some invisble thread between us, she starts heading my way. She disappears in the crowd as a couple steps into my line of vision. It's the palace guard I had extended the invitation to this morning and behind him his fellow guard. Each is accompanied by a woman who after offering a bow and curtsy are introduced as their wives. The women again wear that look of disbelief as I graciously accept their birthday wishes and turn introducing them to the Queen Mother. Their disbelief ratchets up another notch when America joins us and witnessing the love my people have for her makes me forget about everything else. This woman standing next to me; this perfect woman _is_ my world.

I catch America an hour later standing, half hidden by one of those tall arragement of flowers, all alone.

"Have I told you how nicely your ass sways in that dress?" I whisper throatily in her ear from behind. "I'm counting the minutes to get you out of it."

"Are you enjoying yourself?" She says without turning to face me but I can sense her smile behind her words.

"I am. For one, Kota's birthday toast is one I won't soon forget," I chuckle.

"Yes, leave it to my brother not to forego a minute in the spotlight. Pompous ass."

I laugh. "Don't be so hard on him, darling. He's virtually harmless."

America snorts. "I'm sure there'll be a favor he's soon to ask of you in return for his kind speech."

"It wouldn't be Kota otherwise," I agree with her assessment and wanting to move on from the subject of my annoying brother-in-law, I lay a kiss on her neck. "On the other hand, my darling," I whisper, my hands sliding to grip her hips. "I'm wondering when I'm going to get my gift?" I pull on her hips so her backside is flush against my front, thankful for the bit of privacy the obstruction of the flowers give us. "The hour is getting late and it won't be my birthday much longer."

Slowly turning in the circle of my arms, her gaze stills on my lips and then as if assessing her next words, smiles when my brown eyes meet her half-lidded blue orbs.

"Soon," she tells me.

"How. Soon?"

"Very. Soon."

"You're killing me."

"Good."

I groan as her eyes intimate wicked, wicked things. She leans in for a kiss so innocent and yet the spark it ignites sets my skin afire. My eyes widen in a mix of shock and surprise as her stealthy fingers boldly trace over the rigid length of my cock.

Her crooked smile is full of knowledge– what her touch has done to me.

"Soon," she repeats. I groan.

I watch as she leaves me, hungry and near devastation. Damn. I should have hauled her into one of the nearby parlor rooms and ravished her...completely. Maybe I should lay her across my knees and swat that sweet, little ass for...

"Pardon, Your Majesty," Stavros' voice clangs through my fantasy. I clear my throat as if the action itself were like a shield to ward my wicked thoughts from his perceptive eyes.

"What is it?" I say the words harsher than I intend.

"I do hate disturbing you at your very own party, Your Majesty, but we have a small problem."

Apparently an invoice had been missed and needed America's signature to be paid. A small enough fire I could put out.

"Don't trouble America with it. I'll handle it."

"Thank you, Sir. It is waiting in your office. I do apologize for the inconvenience."

"It's a small thing, Stavros. I'll sign off on it and leave it on my desk."

With a slight bow of his head, Stavros eagerly returns to the festivities while I rush to my office.

The guards stationed at the door greet me with birthday wishes that I acknowledge as I slip into my office. I'm feeling a bit aroused, my groin lingering on the touch of America's fingers. I have a good mind to forget about the damn gift and take her hard against a wall.

Rounding my desk, the open folder is there just as Stavros said it would be. But instead of a document...an envelope with my name on it. I recognize the writing right away. I smile and pick it up within seconds. It smells of her which arouses me further. "What are you up to my darling?" I muse as my smile widens and the heat of anticipation spreads through my chest...and nether region. It dawns on me that I had been set up by my trusted advisor and my lovely wife.

I turn the envelope over, snapping the seal and eagerly tear into the content. It reads...

 _A birthday wish, you do not get_

 _But three wishes if you dare_

 _To find your gift you must return_

 _To where your lover's heart awaits._

 _She lays in slumber for you to wake_

 _Your every wish she will fulfill_

 _Come at once! She cannot wait!_

 _For her Master to obey._

My blood thrums in my veins at America's licentious words; heat like a raging fire burns my insides. I feel as if my very clothes are going to turn to ashes but that white heat turns to frigid ice as a voice says, "How...kinky."

I whirl in the direction of the voice. A voice I recognize. There's a quiet rustling of a dress. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

"Hello, Maxon."

My brow knits tight in recognition. "Kriss." The displeasure not hidden in my tone when I speak her name.

"They always say it's the quiet ones that..."

"What the hell are you doing in here?" My eyes flit towards the door. How did she get past my guards?!

"Relax," she says as if answering my question.

"How did you get into my office?" I ask again, harsher, regarding her with suspicion.

She cocks her head sideways, a clever smile spreading across her face. "It wasn't that difficult, really. It's amazing what you can learn in just a few months about a place you called home."

The secret passage from my office, an artery that leads to the Royal saferoom.

My back stiffens. My eyes narrow. The facade of the sweet, innocent girl she pretended to be, that girl I thought I knew stands before me now a representation of something harder, unyielding. "What do you want?" I hiss.

She takes a deep breath. "I won't take much time. I just wanted a chance to speak with you in private. _Please._ "

The sincerity in her voice, the plea in her eyes almost make me regret my harshness. Almost.

"Then talk." I reply with rancor, remembering who it is I'm speaking with. And I'm not putting up with any of her shit tonight.

"Right," she jerks her chin at the card on my desk. "Wouldn't want to keep _her_ waiting."

I try to calm the anger ready to strike at her like a bolt of lighting. Weighing my words, I carefully say, " _You_...need to leave before..."

"Look, Maxon," she interrupts before I get the chance finish. "I wanted to tell you that I was wrong. That I'm sorry. About...everything."

"You could've written a letter," I jab. She flinches. Good.

Kriss shakes her head. "No. I needed to tell you in person." A pause. "I've gone about things the wrong way. I realize that now. I don't want us to be enemies, Maxon. You've made yourself clear and seeing you with America tonight...I get it," she pauses again. "However, I would like to think that I was something more to you than a mere _convenience_..." she repeats the words I had said the last time we spoke...that day when she had propositioned me, boldly in person. She continues undeterred by my lack of reaction. "We did mean something to each other, didn't we?"

That I couldn't deny. I offer a nod. "I cared for you, Kriss."

"Cared? But never loved?..."

"Kriss..." I wipe a hand over my face and sigh, exasperated.

I see the tears well in her eyes. I feel a pang of guilt that I'm the cause of those very tears but she doesn't need to know that. Kriss is a beautiful woman. She will make the right man happy. She only needs time to figure herself out.

I stuff my hands in my pants pocket. I walk to her, every bone in my body fighting the gentlemanly training I've been bred to have– to close the narrow gap. I know this confession is costing her much and I don't want to be a damn jerk. Heartless I may not be but I don't want to give her mixed signals either so I say, "I can't apologize for choosing America. And I won't apologize for...a lot of the things I've said to you."

She nods as she looks up at me. "I understand. I preyed on your trust. And I had an agenda that didn't include falling in love with you, Maxon. You have to believe that. But I did. And when I lost you...I...I didn't know what to do. I wrote those stupid letters because I didn't want you to forget me, Maxon."

"I understand why you did it, Kriss. But nothing will ever come of it. Ever." A blunt, direct approach because I'd learned no other would work with her.

"Did you tell her? About the letters?"

No way in hell was I opening that Pandora's box. "Goodbye, Kriss."

I see that cunning glint in her eye flash bright. "Happy Birthday, Maxon."

And as if the universe had tilted in the opposite direction, her lips crash against mine. My hands react of their own volition pushing her away. She stumbles back.

"What the hell?!..." I wipe my mouth, the evidence of red lipstick smeared on the back of my hand.

"Explain that away, _Your Majesty!"_

"You bitch." I curse, calmer than I feel. I grab Kriss by her arm hauling her ass to the door. I yank it open and toss her into the arms of a very shocked guard. "Get Miss Ambers a ride home. Now." I growl my command then slam the door not giving any further explanation.

"Damn it!" I hear myself yell. Every muscle in my body is tense. How the hell could I let that happen? I want to kick my own ass. But a voice inside me jerks me to my senses. America...Go to her. Go. To. Her.

I rush to the small lavoratory in my office, flick on the light. I look in the mirror and splash water on my face. I scrub my hand, my mouth washing away the vile taste, the sensation on my lips that is Kriss. I dry off and return to my desk where I spot America's invitation.

No way in hell was Kriss going to ruin my birthday.

By the time I reach my bedroom, I'm breathing hard. I open the door quietly as if I were a thief in the night. All I can think of is America and how much I need her right now. How much I want to lose myself in her...in her kisses, in her body. And how I need to feel myself buried inside her, making love to her, letting her know with my words and my kisses and my body that I am hers and hers alone. And damn Kriss to hell.

Our bedroom is lit with soft lights. I step inside, my anticipation on high knowing I'll find America waiting, wet and ready for me. But where I expect to find her naked on our bed...she is not.

I frown, puzzled. "America?" I call but there is no answer.

The bed is untouched and as I near, that's when I see it.

"What the...?" I ask no one else but myself since apparently my wife has decided to play a vicious little trick on me. I look around the room for her again. No sign of her. There's a note next to the small golden lamp that sits on the bed.

 _ **Whosoever the lamp holds**_  
 _ **My Master will be**_  
 _ **Rub me**_  
 _ **And your desires I'll fulfill**_

"A lover's game," I gather. I'm all in.

America never ceases to amaze me. How in the world she manages it, I'll never comprehend. The world that felt so topsy-turvy a moment ago has tilted back on its axis. And I push every thought, every notion, everyone outside of this room and shut them out.

It's America and it's me.

There's no sound, there's no voice outside these doors that will dull the sounds that I will make her utter and moan in pleasure this night.

I know it's a game...a lover's game.

My body thrills at the prospects. So I rub the lamp with my sleeve...

"Oh shit!" I hear myself startle, almost dropping the lamp. My heart feels like it's lodged in my throat as America emerges from behind the changing screen, a shower of glitter raining down on her, her voice booming in declaration.

"I am the genie of the lamp. Whosoever holds the lamp, my master is he." I take in her sultry steps as she nears. My eyes bulge at the barely there genie costume she wears; the material so sheer I can almost see every part of her. Her flat midsection is exposed; her bottoms riding low on the sensuous curves of her hips. Her firm breasts dotted with already pebbled nipples. My mouth is already watering. Her face is covered by a half veil so only her eyes show.

"You hold the lamp."

"Yes. I guess I do." I look at the object in my hand.

"Master."

"I am."

She curtsies, her eyes never leaving mine.

When she stands again, "Three wishes I will grant. Your heart's desire...your fantasies." Her voice is a siren's song, full of promise and pleasure. It's hypnotic.

I throw the lamp over my shoulder and hear it thud behind me. I can see the smile shining in America's eyes. But I need contact and I need it right now. So, I tug the veil. It comes away easy and I suck in a breath at her sensual beauty. Her lips are full, tantalizingly succulent and damn it, when she lifts those sparkling blues at me, "Kiss me." The only words I can muster.

"Is that your first wish, my Master?"

I nod simply at a loss for words.

"Your wish is my command."

Her hands crawl up my arms, to the curves of my deltoids. She angles her head upwards. I run a thumb over the specks of glitter on her cheek. She looks ethereal; the most beautiful woman on this earth. I'm in awe of her as I lower my mouth to hers. Our breaths mingle, lips barely brushing soon to softly press unto the soft cushion of her mouth. It's a sensual, probing kiss as we open to each other. Not hard but romantic, soft yet deep, the sort of lover's kiss that has my head spinning. My fingers loosen her hair and as it tumbles down, twine in her hair.

We kiss like that for a bit and my body protests when she ends it. She steps back out of my reach when I attempt to pull her against me. After a kiss like that my control is nothing but a frayed string ready to snap.

"Was that to your liking, my Master?"

I can barely eek out a hissed, "Yes," as I shed my jacket, my tie.

"To please only you, my Master... my duty is."

My heart's set to implode at those words. I untuck my shirt from my pants making quick work on the buttons. I'm pleased when her eyes graze over my muscular torso and she bites on her lower lip.

I can't stand the distance between us. I need to touch her. I need her pressed against my body.

"You will grant my second wish now." I'm amazed that my voice doesn't quake in time with the tremors assaulting my insides.

"As my Master wills it, I shall grant it."

"Another kiss. I wish for another kiss."

She looks puzzled. "Another kiss?" Her hands meet her hips in a show of protest and defiance. "But…"

"As I am your Master you _will_ grant my wish."

She sighs. "Very well. It is _your_ wish." I like the flustered look she gives me. I smile at her and she gives into it.

She approaches silkily, her gaze softened, concentrated solely on me. America snakes her arms around my shoulders, her fingertips tickle the base of my neck. I take a deep breath when she raises up on her toes, grazing my jawline with her nose and I feel the heat of desire swirl around us. Her eyes fall to my mouth and as she steadies to grant my wish, lips puckering…

"No. Not there. The kiss I wish you'll give me on your knees."

My eyes fall between us, down to my protruding appendage. Her eyes follow suit.

I can see her bite back a smile. "As you wish, my cunning Master."

Slowly dropping before me, she settles on both knees and starts with my belt. My stomach muscles tighten in response. My breaths are labored and I groan when she unzips me. She nuzzles the tip of her nose between the opening, and she moans as she takes in the scent of my arousal. I help her push my pants down over my thighs to my ankles. Her attention is torture making me twitch against feathery kisses she's now dotting across the elastic band of my boxers.

"America," I utter, my body taut with pain. Her mouth nips at my stiff cock through my boxers. I bury a hand in her hair, urging her to taste my flesh. She gets the message and tugs the material over my engorged manhood. It springs proudly from it's restraint. She takes a moment to admire, licking her lips. I tilt her chin up to look at me, my cock an inch from her mouth. I can already feel myself sliding through the soft barrier of those pretty lips; sliding into the warmth of her mouth.

I fist my cock, running a slow hand over my length and feed it to her.

I hear myself utter a long string of curses as she takes me slow at first, her lips wrapped like a vice in the shape of an "O" around me. I leave her to pleasure me, her lips gliding smoothly over the veins of my erection. It's wondrous...the sensation of her mouth clamped around me; the little sounds I hear her make while feasting on me. And as she continues, her head moving forward and back, I discard my shirt; my cuff links tossed somewhere on the floor.

"So good…so damn good, baby," I encourage. "Suck it…just like that." I angle my head to one side to watch her, my hand fisted in her hair. She comes up for breath and a heartbeat later runs her flat tongue over the underside from base to the crowned tip. I watch America twirl the sensitive, rimmed edge with her tongue in nothing but pure fired lust. I groan at the sight and push past her lips once more. She takes me deep this time and it's nearly close enough to bring me to my own knees. I withdraw…near breathless, my cock glistens with the kiss that fulfills my wish.

I take her by the elbows to stand. Her lips are swollen from labor and damn if she's not a sight to behold. Flames of red hair frame her face, her shoulders. Her chest heaves. And with each breath, her bosom rises, the light catching more specks of glitter on the swells of her breasts.

I shed my shoes, the rest of my clothing and grabbing her, hoist her up by her bottom. The paper thin material of her costume does nothing to hinder the feeling of those round hills nesting in my palms. She wraps her legs around my waist. I turn with her to the bed.

"Wait. You must wish your last wish, my Master. It's bad luck to leave a wish unwished on your birthday."

"Is that so?" I give a wry smile.

"Mmhmmm. It's in the genie handbook. I checked."

"Well then... be it far from me to go against that rule..." I kiss her neck, her bare shoulder. "My lovely, genie." I lean my head to a breast, tug a nipple between my lips through her skimpy top.

"Ohhhh..." she whimpers, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Please...wish it...wish it... _please_." Her body undulates against me.

"Be still or I will not."

Her protest comes out in a whimper, one that tells me I'll probably pay for this later. But she manages to rein herself. "Good. Calm. Breathe," I direct. She's shaking in my arms, fighting for control. "Tonight, _I_ am your master, America." I assert. "You will submit to my last wish."

I pause. Her eyes widen in anticipation. Hell, she's scorching. I can smell her readiness.

"I wish to make love to my Queen. Throughout this night. And every day of my life."

She asks weakly, breathy, **"** Is that your final wish, my Master?"

"To make you happy, America...that's my final wish."

America whimpers when my mouth clamps over hers. But this kiss isn't soft or sweet. It's hungry. It's demanding. Ravenous.

We tumble on to the bed where I make short work of her skimpy wares. And proceeding with my hands and my mouth and my body I make love to America. I taste her and when she spills herself on my tongue, her sweet essence only fuels a deeper hunger. And at last, when I enter her, she submits to me as I take her repeatedly, giving me full control of our lover's bed.

Her nails bite into the flexing muscles of my back with each and every thrust of my hips into her sweltering channel. I growl at the mix of pain and pleasure. She knows exactly which buttons to push to take back control but not tonight. I cuff her hands up above her head and open her further apart with my knees. Full submission, that's what I want.

She comes undone with my name on her lips as I control her, pinning her so hard that the mattress is singing. Our bodies are slick with sweat but I hold off my climax and unhinge myself from her. My body curses. I grip her hips and roll her over. She immediately knows what I want. And on her elbows and knees, slants that sweet ass in my direction and I take what I want, my position dominant as I cover her body with mine. Finding that golden path between her neck and shoulder, I mark her. "Mine." She lets out a sex addled cry into the pillow. Her walls quiver around me and I grab on to one of her hips while my elbow and forearm form a bracket to hold my weight. The sheer force of her climax catapults me into non-existence as I spill white ribbons of love into her.

"Happy Birthday to me," I tease in her ear once I've emptied myself inside her. She laughs. And that sweet laugh makes my blood thrum instantly.

America doesn't get much sleep as I thoroughly bed her three more times.

And on the fourth round, I say, "This is the best birthday I've ever had. And you, my darling genie, are the best gift I've ever had."

Dawn greets me. We lie in bed tangled together. America sleeps in my arms exhaustion claiming her. I feel an incomparable joy as I listen to her quiet breaths so grateful for our love. So thankful that she chose to be mine.

I wonder when I should tell America about what happened in my office. I know I have to tell her. Keeping the letters from her had been my mistake. But, nothing is worth me losing her.

She shifts in my arms, a sigh and then a smile, one that looks like contentment spreads over her countenance. She settles against my chest, slumbering peacefully.

I nuzzle my face in her hair. Inhale her scent into me.

"I love you, America. I will always love you."

* * *

 ** _Okay reader's and faithful "Bedtime Stories" followers, now it's your turn to contribute!_**

 ** _This story almost didn't see the light of day. I hit a wall of no motivation and nearly gave up writing anything this month. So just a reminder that your reviews are IMPORTANT!_**

 **Show your favorite writers the love! Don't forget to POST a review!**

 **If you left a review for** **Chapter 13 see my response in the "Reviews" section!**

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 **If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the** ** _"Guidelines for Special Requests"_** **posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".**

 **Stay tuned for the next Bedtime Story! Hopefully coming in September!**


	15. In the Closet

**Author's Notes:**

 **With their wedding less than two weeks away, Maxon and America are finding it rather difficult to exercise one of their most needed virtues:** ** _SELF-CONTROL!_ Will Maxon and America be able to resist temptation before their wedding night or will their lustful trysts be too much for them to endure? Lovers...Secrets...and Closets!**

 **This story was based on a couple of Guest Reviewer suggestions. And I was feeling a bit nostalgic too :P**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"In the Closet"**_

 **One thing in life you must understand**  
 **The truth of lust, woman to man**  
 **So open the door and you will see**  
 **There are no secrets**  
 **Make your move**  
 **Set me free**

~Michael Jackson~

 _ **~ Maxon**_

My heart thundered in my chest. Every part of me being stirred to life like the fire of a furnace– _hotter_ , being stoked by bellows to a roaring white heat– _blazing_. My mind was a fog and every thought I had of how a proper gentleman should behave had left me two hours ago. Not that I was complaining. I was enjoying myself immensely but the more I thought about stopping this, the more my body kept urging me forward. I was in a battle of wills and I was losing…badly. But, I welcomed this fire licking every inch of my body; the scorching heat over my skin, scouring through my veins and every taut muscle. I wanted to burn with it. I wanted it to consume me. I had known my very weakness from the very beginning...

And her name was America.

Her slender body felt just perfect under my hands as they slid over the silken skin of her upper thighs under her skirt. I shouldn't be touching her like this but hell, I wanted to touch every part of her. I wanted to lick and taste every inch of her; wanted to wrap myself in her scent. America wasn't making matters easy either. We had come oh, so close on several occasions of going all the way but somehow, by some miracle of restraint and that little voice called a conscience, slammed down like an iron gate and willed common sense to win out...every time. Yeah, we had even discussed oral sex and that might've sated us for the moment but perhaps it was my mother's arched brow that kept popping up in my head saying to me, ' _Maxon... you know better.'_ Did I? Yes, I did know better but with our wedding only nine days away it had been a battle to keep these desires at bay. To be honest, I was getting tired of fighting them off.

America had told me it didn't matter to her if we did it since we were practically married anyway. So, she reasoned, why couldn't we just fudge a bit? It seemed quite logical to me and that voice in the back of my head, my own, not my mother's, that kept telling me to bed her, that this marriage thing was just a technicality, a mere formality, that it really wasn't such a huge deal...yeah... _that_ little voice kept getting louder and louder. And right now it was roaring!

 _Why deprive yourself of her good will?_ It egged on. _You see how badly she wants you, don't you? Look at her...such a pretty face...so flushed, so hungry. Feel the heat of her body. She's hot...for YOU! Take her...Take her, Maxon._

And here we were again.

America straddled over my hips, her sweet mouth coupled with mine as we kissed, hot with intent, her fingers working another button on my shirt. I heard myself moan and she echoed it. Goddammit. I should stop her. I really should. And yet that other part of my brain, so dulled with desire and want–

 _Can't you scent her desire? She must be so wet...So very wet. Touch her there...Feel her need..._ had shackled any sense that remained.

I don't know how long we had been kissing. A long time as I managed to lift open my heavy lidded eyes and glanced over her shoulder.

"Looks like the movie is over," I swallowed, breathing heavily.

America smiled, peeking over to the screen scrolling the credits. "It appears so." She sighed, gave me a lazy smile and pressed her mouth against mine again. And oh, that sweet tongue! The things she was able to make me feel were indeed very, very wicked things. I was helpless as my body thrummed with need. My erection strained under my pants and the heat between her thighs barely grazing over my very eager male appendage made me want to pull her flush down over me so she could feel exactly what she had done to me. I was so fucking hard. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to push the envelope further.

Her hands slid into my hair as mine dared to glide further up her skirt; up...my fingers tentative, ascending...hesitating, seeing if she'd stop me. She didn't. Encouraged, I continued...up...fingertips now grazing the edge of her underwear over the arched curve of her hips. Lord, what the hell was I doing? Another button on my shirt came undone and America's kisses moved down my neck to the dip of my collarbone. I leaned my head back, granting her access to my throat as she suckled. My breath hitched and I could barely contain the next. I exhaled raggedly, my fingers trembling and I squeezed her hips in an attempt to control the extremely thin threads of resolve barely holding me together.

"America…" I moaned her name, my voice thick with want.

Her lips slid along the line of my jaw up to the shell of my ear where she whispered, "Take me to bed, Maxon."

I nearly convulsed, my entire body surging with a delightful mixture of blood and shivers. Her fingers tightened around the collar of my dress shirt, her need clearly spoken through such a commanding gesture. "I want you, Maxon. Pleeeease. _Please_." The tip of her tongue traced my bottom lip.

"But…"

"Don't you want me?" I heard another piece of my armor clank to the floor at her question.

"Of course. You know I do but…" She softly sucked on my bottom lip. Good god! I knew I was going to come and embarrass myself.

"We don't need to wait. Not if we don't want to. We'll be married in nine days. I'm yours already. Take me. I want you to make love to me, Maxon."

Those words shook me and I growled, capturing her mouth in a desperate, lust-filled kiss. I gripped her hips tighter making her moan louder in response.

And when I brought her down on to me so she could feel my raging desire, she welcomed the contact, groaning her pleasure, gripping my shoulders tight with her fingers. Her body began a dance over the rigid bulge in my pants and I encouraged her making her hips rock back and forth.

And then that voice, my mother's voice broke through the dense fog of my sex addled brain. _'_ _A true gentleman knows proper boundaries, Maxon. And does not dare cross them. Remember that.'_ But I didn't care to remember. Not now! Not when America was so hot and ready and I was on the cusps of knowing what being inside of her really felt like! Not wondering, not fantasizing but finally experiencing her body wrapped around mine. The heat, the unbelievable softness and slickness I knew was waiting behind the barrier of her panties.

 _'Maxon Calix Schreave!'_

I cursed inwardly. Taking an extremely difficult breath, I closed my eyes attempting to corral my heart, my thoughts…my damn dick as America continued to writhe over me. Damn, if life wasn't cruel!

Sure, I could claim America tonight, make love to her until dawn but how would we feel afterwards? Would it be worth it? She meant more to me than that. After we were married we would have plenty of time and plenty of sex, I would make sure of that. I had been able to stop before. I could once more. I had made promises to America. A proper honeymoon, to cherish her...

"Baby..."

"Mmmm?"

"We can't."

"Yesssss...we can."

"Please...America..." I groaned, feeling the rolling motion of her hips.

Oh...fuck...

* * *

 **Because there's something about you, baby**  
 **That makes me want**  
 **To give it to you**  
 **I swear there's something about you, baby**  
 **That makes me want...**

 **Just promise me, whatever we say**  
 **Or do to each other**  
 **For now we'll make a vow, to just...**  
 **Keep it in the closet**

"How did you manage to get out of it?

I ran a hand through my hair as I walked down the main hall next to Markson. The guard who I deemed most efficient, dedicated to his uniform and loyal to the crown had become one of my most trusted. I still remembered how he'd taken charge when America went missing in the woods, fleeing from an attack by rebels opposed to the palace. Northern rebels they turned out to be. I remember pacing my room like a caged lion never feeling so helpless, so useless in my life wondering if she'd been caught, held prisoner or worse, harmed in any way. Hours passed with no word as darkness fell. Unparalleled relief washed over me upon getting word that Markson had returned with his men and my America safely on hand. I couldn't have thanked the officer enough...had I had the chance. Because in truth, those had been the most stressful, terrifying hours of my life. My thanks would come eventually once my dear was mine.

"Barely managed." I huffed and stopped walking dead in my tracks. Markson followed, halting next to me. I had confided in him about my situation with America. Besides her, there was no other I had granted that sort of access to my private life...save Stavros, but I didn't even dare speak of what had been slowly escalating between me and America since our engagement. The thought alone was awkward. And although Harrison had proved to be a sort of confidante there were certain intimacies I couldn't bring myself to broach with the grandfatherly man. But it was different with Markson. Being close in age, having similar interests and building a camaraderie over late night drinks, of course, never hurt, we'd bonded over the past few months. He'd been at my side ever the vigilant guard after the deaths of my parents and had proven to be not only a person with a listening ear but a true friend.

"Was she...upset?"

"What do you think?" I shot back, irritated more at myself than at the actual question.

"What're you going to do? You can't keep avoiding her," he warned.

"I don't know. But I'm driving myself fucking crazy." I swept a hand over my face. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take. I was trying to do the right thing by America. I was trying to hold the line of propriety but I supposed that had gone out the window following yesterday's heavy make-out session in the theater room. I could still feel her heat pressed against my groin thinly sheathed by the material of her underwear. I groaned, my balls heavy in my pants.

Markson placed a hand on my shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face.

"I feel your pain."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I shifted my weight from one foot to the other feeling the growing discomfort in my trousers. Just thinking about America's luscious body...her sweet kisses...the way her hands felt so good on my chest. I wanted to shout in frustration at the top of my voice.

Markson shrugged. That response was not helping. Neither was the advise that followed. "Try not to be alone?"

I threw him a firm scowl and seeing the look I shot him, held up his hands in self-defense. "Just a suggestion, Your Majesty," he chuckled.

"I have eight days. Eight days left before we're married. And I'm not sure if I'll make it. What does that say about me?"

The laws on marriage and sexual relations were clear. These laws, long ago established when Gregory Illéa reformed our nation, loomed like a heavy shroud over my people. According to his journals, moral depravity had contributed to our weakness as a nation, breeding a people that lacked self-control. A people that knew no boundaries, no loyalties. Had no conscience. A people that had once prided itself on family values had succumbed to selfishness and wanton greed, driven to become a country were these heralded values were nearly non-existent.

Pointing back to the annals of history, back to when the Roman Empire had been a force to be reckoned with; a world power unmatched, a power tragically brought to its knees by the weakness of its citizens– where its strength had been forged within the family unit, the basic structure, the backbone of a prosperous society had festered into nothing more but a thin facade, porous and brittle. Breakable.

Therefore, in order to secure a stronger nation for generations to come, values needed to be restored, Gregory Illéa had preached. Sex was prohibited until a couple was legally married thus preserving the precious core of our nation. And seeing the advantages of dwindling unwanted pregnancies, abortions, broken marriages, single-parent households many were sold to the idea and traded their freedoms for the foundation of a better tomorrow. And so here we were. Generations later who had accepted these laws without question and yet, it is one of the many laws that even I knew was constantly tested, broken and one of many I felt a need to abolish.

I hadn't been sitting long enough on the throne to strike down certain laws that infringed on an individual's rights and free will. There were certain places the rule of law, no matter its intentions, had no business meddling. And a person's bedroom, including my own was one of those places. I had even heard of laws in other nations where certain _acts_ performed in the bedroom came under the scrutiny of law and therefore had been prohibited. Thankfully, Gregory Illéa had not gone that far.

Not that it was only law that proved to be a barrier to my intimacy with America. It was my own moral sense. I was King. I needed to lead by example. How could I ask my people to live under a law that I myself would shun to obey? Even though my throne gave me power to discount this very law for my own personal advantage with no repercussions to myself or America, wouldn't I be a hypocrite? I had to walk the walk until I changed things. But I wasn't sure if even I could abide this test of my will.

Markson regarded me with an understanding I didn't deserve. "I say it makes you human, Your Majesty."

I felt an odd sense of comfort. I _was_ human. I was a virile male with the natural need and desire to mate and not just a man with a title; or a damn monk. I loved America and I wanted to share every part of myself with her...and take every piece of her for myself.

"How can I keep dealing with this when the nights are proving too long and all I can think about is her? How can I keep myself from breaking down her door like a raging bull knowing she's in the room adjacent to mine?" I bit out. _Possibly sleeping in nothing but a sheer nightgown that I could shred with my bare hands! Fuck._

He didn't respond but looked at me thoughtful. I stared back waiting.

"Honestly?"

I nodded.

Two breaths passed before he answered. "I didn't. That's off the record, of course."

I shouldn't have been surprised but yet I couldn't hide it.

He chuckled. "Don't look so shocked. Happens all of the time, trust me. Even here in the palace."

That of course, I had known. I wasn't guileless. And my father himself had proven such restrictions were nothing but words on paper. With his mistress. How many times had she paid her late night visits? I shoved the thought aside.

He lowered his tone, adding, "As long as you keep it in the closet...who's going to know? Just you and her, right?"

I let the words sink in. "You mean to tell me that you and..."

"Yes. Many."

"How many?"

A low laugh rumbled as he said, "There are secrets even these walls don't dare share."

"So what you're saying..."

"I'm not saying anything. All I know is that love is love. No law can stop that. It's something to be shared with someone special. There's no shame in that. Otherwise our dicks wouldn't stand at attention every time our girl entered the room, am I right?"

I felt my face redden a bit at his very perceptive comment. Damn. America got me up with just a look.

We turned to walk, proceeding down the empty corridor.

"Still, I don't want to ruin things," I added, thoughtful. "I made her a promise. That we would wait."

"Oh hell."

"I can't go back on my word. Even as much as I want to." A promise was a promise.

Markson shook his head. "Well...you've damned yourself, for sure but..."

"I can't break a promise," I emphasized. As Harrison would say, _'A man's word is his bond.'_

Just then familiar laughter echoed down the opposite end of the hall, headed in our direction.

"Damn. It's America," I whispered. We hadn't spoken since yesterday when I unceremoniously yanked her off me back into her own seat in the theater room, red-faced and with a look that could've killed me. I made a quick get away, my own clothes crumpled and hair mussed even after she called my name. Her voice rang in my head for the rest of the evening.

"Look Markson. If she asks, you haven't seen me. Okay?"

He looked appalled, his brow knitting tight as I used his body as a shield. "You mean, lie? To Her Highness?"

"This is important," I hissed. "And an order." His frown remained, but he agreed as I ducked into the nearest parlor room shutting the door with a near inaudible click just in the nick of time.

"Hello, Officer Markson." I heard America greet moments later from the other side of the door.

"Your Highness," he greeted in return. "Ms. Marlee."

"Good day, Officer Markson," said Marlee.

"Have you seen His Majesty? I've been looking for him all day and for some reason our paths haven't crossed." America didn't sound mad. Her tone was friendly and light. At least I knew she wouldn't behead me the next time I saw her.

He paused...a little too long. When it came to his soon-to-be Queen, I knew Markson would prove to be a shoddy liar. The man was loyal and honest to a damn fault! _"Come on..."_ I whispered, willing him to lie.

"Well?" America asked, a hint of annoyance now sounded in her voice. "Have you seen His Majesty?"

"I believe...Your Highness...uhh...no?"

With an ear pressed to the door, I groaned.

"Are you asking me or are you telling me, Officer Markson?" I heard America say.

"I'm uncertain, Your Highness?"

I rolled my eyes, smacking a hand over my forehead.

"What do you mean? You have either seen him or not."

"Indeed. I did see His Majesty...headed in that direction...and I believe that he was on his way to his office."

"But you're not for certain that is where he was headed?"

A beat of silence. "I would venture to say he most likely was headed to his office?"

She sighed. "Very well. I will go check his office. Again."

With a thank you for his "help" both ladies bid him farewell.

Markson entered the parlor.

He took one look at me and said, "You're in deep shit."

Up to my knees.

* * *

 **There is something**  
 **I have to say to you**  
 **If you promise you'll understand**  
 **I cannot contain myself when in your presence**  
 **I'm so humble**  
 **Touch me**  
 **Don't hide our love**  
 **Woman to man**

Okay...so my will power _was_ shit.

I couldn't avoid America for long especially when we had dinner plans with her family.

Magda, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, carried most of the conversation at dinner excitedly speaking about the final details of the wedding ceremony and reception. She had been heavily involved with the arrangements grateful that Sylvia had allowed her to assist. It was her daughter's wedding after all. From time to time she would engage America who broke her stare from across the table at me long enough to answer a question or make a brief comment.

From the moment we sat for dinner I felt as if I were being served as the main course on her plate. I noticed she had picked at her meal, pushing the roasted potatoes and steamed broccoli around with her fork. She managed to spear a piece of herb chicken, her eyes fixed on me as if she wanted to devour me and not the chicken she was currently chewing on.

I swallowed and wondered if anyone else at the table noticed. If they did they gave no indication or wrote it off as the gaze of two people in love.

There was that telling fired look in America's eyes and when she took a breath, the way her chest rose and fell...and damn that little sigh she gave as her gaze fell from my eyes and lowered to my waist insinuating that her thoughts were now focused elsewhere, my body responded and I cursed it. I shifted in my seat and saw the little smile of satisfaction that lifted the corners of her pretty mouth.

I cleared my throat, uncomfortably shifting once again and hoping I would survive dinner.

I survived dinner but not dessert.

"Maxon, would you please allow me a moment? I need to show you something." America announced as she rose from the table. She gestured for everyone to continue with dessert and we would return shortly. I rose and followed her out of the room.

"I missed you today," she smiled at me once we were alone and gave me a sweet kiss on that sensitive area between my ear and jaw. I swallowed a groan as heat rose in my belly. "Have you been avoiding me?"

I took a deep breath, clenching my jaw. Yes. "No," I uttered not very convincingly. "I had a full agenda..."

"It's okay...I'm not upset about movie night." We walked along as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry...it's just..."

"No need for explanations," she smiled up at me, a glint in her eyes. "I understand."

"I made you a promise."

"Mmmhmm...I know."

"But you know, sweetheart...it's not that I don't...where are we going?"

America placed her index finger to my lips. "Shhh..."

"What're we doing in the Great Room?" It was dark save the light from the moon that shone through the windows.

"I told you. I have to show you something." A sensual smile spread her lips. She took hold of my hand, threading our fingers as she pulled me along. "This way..." she whispered.

Warning bells and whistles sounded in my head and I shut them off because a part of me wanted to be alone with her as unwise as that was. So I let her pull me along like a lamb to the slaughter.

We came to a side door in a narrow corridor of the Great Room. America pulled the door open.

"In here."

She flicked on the lights.

We were inside the storage closet. It was more like a walk-in closet. Linen tablecloths and cloth napkins of different colors lay neatly folded on the shelves. Plates, saucers, delicate tea cups, wine glasses and an assortment of different sized crystal vases and centerpieces rested on carefully labeled shelves. So this is where we kept all this stuff. Huh. I never knew this room existed.

But it wasn't the fine china or crystalware that had my undivided attention.

"Close your eyes, Maxon."

My mouth was opening in a weak protest when America lulled me by pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I moaned. My resolve melted that quick. We were alone, in a storage closet. Just the place we should not be. My hands snaked about her middle to the small of her back, pulling her closer to me as I sought to deepen the kiss. She opened to me, allowing me to indulge in the sweeping motion of her tongue against mine. Delicious. It was a hot kiss and I was already hard. But she pulled back all too soon. "Now...close your eyes."

"Why?" I whispered, my voice like gravel. I wanted more kissing.

"I told you...I want to show you something."

I regarded her suspiciously. When she arched a brow I chuckled. "As you wish, my darling."

"Now stand here and don't move."

"Okay..." I said as my eyes fell shut.

My ears perked at her movements though I wasn't sure what she was doing. After what seemed like a minute had gone by she said, "Open."

The sensation that both of my eyes had popped in and out of my skull like they did on those funny old time cartoons I had watched as a kid at the sight of her nearly brought me to my very knees before her. My heart slammed in my chest and "Ohhhh fuck...," I heard myself swear, the words a mere whisper as my eyes devoured her. Shivers went down my spine and my entire body thrummed with the rhythm of ten beating drums...and damn was in hot in here.

A goddess stood before me dressed in nothing more than tiny, white bikini panties and bra. Her breasts were full, the tops of her mounds straining under the lace of her bra. I felt my tongue licking my lips as I perused her knockout body. The toned abs, the curvature of her hips, the length of her gorgeous legs. I could feel them wrapped around me.

"Come here," she crooked a finger and I helplessly obeyed. My feet urged me forward although my knees felt like jello.

"Let me look at you." I didn't know if I said that more to her or for my hungry eyes but I wanted to consume every detail.

"You like?"

I shook my head. "No...I love."

And within a second beat, my mouth was on hers, hot and demanding. I heard America gasp once I broke the kiss, my lips pressing, kissing, licking her throat, her upper chest just above the swells of her cleavage. I hoisted her up by the curves of her rounded bottom. Her long legs wrapped about my waist as I turned to set her down on a small table. Her legs opened to accommodate my hips and tugged at the back of my thighs pulling me in, anchoring me against her body. We kissed, long and deep, reaching for each other over an expanse of unfulfilled want. Her fingers twined in my hair, her hips beginning to writhe against my front. I was beyond hard and groaned in noticeable pain as my cock was like a divining rod found its source and was ready to sink in...deep.

I gripped America's hips, my fingers digging into her flesh. I pushed the granite bulge of my cock against her core and she made that little whimpering sound; the one which I was beginning to realize threatened to turn me to ashes. I closed my eyes letting our bodies do the talking– lips and hands, tongues and other hot, eager places. The soft skin of her back felt like fine velvet under the caress of my fingertips, skimming higher to the clasp of her bra.

Her breathing turned ragged just then and so had mine. "Maaaaxon..." she groaned.

My fingers trembled. I wanted her. I needed her. We were both in pain and drowning in fevered lust. We could finally find release; fulfillment. Lifting my head from her neck, I opened my eyes and a sudden reality struck me. We were in a closet. A damn closet. Suddenly I felt ashamed. I was a weak moron. And I was being a selfish ass.

"America..."

"Noooo...don't... don't stop," her voice was tortured.

I took a steadying breath and slowly exhaled trying to calm the tempest wrecking havoc in my body.

"Maxon..." Noticing the change in my body language America's blue eyes looked at me with a plea.

I swallowed, hating the disappointment etched on her pretty, flushed face. "I want you baby." I pressed my lips to her forehead. "You know I do. God, only knows. We...can't do this..." My voice matched the tortured tone of her own. I was trying to soothe her but the words served to soothe me too.

"Why?"

I looked at her then. Cupping her face, I ran the pad of my thumb over the smooth hill of her rosey cheek. "Because I love you. And I don't want our first time to be in a closet. I want to bed you. Properly. Like you deserve. You're my Queen and I want to worship every damn inch of you. And I will when that time comes. I want to take my time with you. And I won't cheapen you by taking you here. I love you, America."

My words seemed to calm us both down bringing us back to take hold of what little strands of sense we had remaining.

Tears ran down her face and I wiped them away. I pulled her in my arms.

"We'll be together soon, darling. And I'll make love to you the way I've always dreamed..."

And we stayed here for a little while holding each other.

* * *

 **If you can get it**  
 **It's worth a try**  
 **I really want it**  
 **I can't deny**  
 **It's just desire**  
 **I really love it**  
 _ **'Cause if its aching**_  
 _ **You have to rub it**_

 _ **America ~**_

After our closest call to date that night in the storage closet, Maxon and I resolved that we could make it to our wedding day. We had done a good job of it although the days couldn't go by fast enough and the growing need for him only kept getting more intense. It was hard falling asleep with this constant ache between my legs every night. I tried soothing myself, drowning my moans into my pillow. The trick worked only enough to dull the insistent cry of my body but was nowhere as satisfying as I could imagine. And I was imagining a lot these days! Although I didn't know exactly what it would feel like to have Maxon inside of me, my body knew it needed him there...where that ache pulsed and throbbed. I wondered if Maxon had been having as much difficulty.

Then one night...

Maxon was in my room.

On my bed.

And the sounds eminating from both of us– grunts, moans, whimpers and the smacking of lips filled my ears. I wanted to hear more. I loved it when he whispered my name as he nestled between my wide opened legs...my flimsy nightgown riding high over my hips where he had pushed it. His strong hands curved around the back of my thighs; a possessive touch that made me hotter.

It was impossible. We couldn't stay away. No matter how hard we had tried. No matter how much I paced or how many cold showers he took, or how many midnight walks he had taken or how many chocolate fudge sundaes I had downed. Though Sylvia would've strung me up by my toes if she knew exactly how _many_ I had downed! _'A bride still needs to fit into her wedding dress,'_ she had repeated more than once while I laid on the mat exercising my glutes during my mandatory daily workout. The woman was an unforgiving beast!

But this?! This was torture! Knowing a mere wooden door kept us separated wasn't enough to quell my raging desire. And now with only three days left...fuck it. I didn't tell Maxon to leave when he came to me. That look of hunger sparked like a live wire in his brown eyes. He was going to claim me. Tonight. And I was ready.

And now here we were again. Doing what we had promised we wouldn't do until we were husband and wife.

His shirt ended up on the floor next to my bed as my hands and lips claimed him, mapping his gorgeous chest, tasting his fevered skin with my tongue, nipping at him with my teeth. My fingers skimmed over the grooves of his rippling stomach as his fingers sank deep in my hair, pulling me to him. Oh, God! We were a blazing flame of fire, he and I and nothing on this earth was going to extinguish that blaze. Nothing except...

The shrill scream of my mother that suddenly shattered my perfect world!

 _BUSTED!_

Both Maxon and I shot up as I screamed at my mother over his shoulder, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Maxon bolted off the bed as if he had been burned. I marked the look of horror on his face. And it made me angrier at this invasion of my privacy! I didn't want him to feel guilty. He had no reason to be. I wanted to give him all of me. I wanted his hands and mouth in places I had only dreamed of! And yes! I wanted to fuck Maxon! I wanted to fuck him senseless! I was sexually frustrated and starved. I wanted my man... _NOW!_

My mother sucked in an audible breath. "I should be asking you both that very question!" her voice raised to a pitch, indignant; eyes flaring as she watched Maxon grab for his shirt. I watched him slip it on as I turned to my mother again like a banshee.

"THIS IS MY ROOM...WILL YOU JUST _LEAVE_?!" I cried as I was dragging myself off the bed, pulling my nightgown down as I stood. My hair was a mess and my lips swollen from all the kissing we had been doing. And I didn't care. I was damn proud of my appearance. I was making my husband to be feel damn good. And he was making me feel amazing and now it was all _ruined_!

"I will do no such thing, missy!" My mom's eyes were shooting daggers...a million of them in Maxon's direction.

"Magda..." he pleaded as she neared, a fire breathing dragon in our wake.

"Don't you Magda me!" she cried, her index finger pointing accusingly at him. I could see the hint of redness creep up his neck and spread over his face. "King or not I will have you know that my daughter is not some loose tramp that you can feel free to have your way with!"

 _"MOTHER!"_

"She may be your betrothed but she does not belong to you just _yet_... _YOUR MAJESTY!_ "

"GOOD GOD, MOTHER! SHUT UP! I AM A GROWN WOMAN!"

My mother cut her eyes at me but I didn't back down. She had no right. No right!

"You need to leave Your Majesty. Or need I remind you again that there are certain _privileges_ you are not entitled to until three days from now!"

"Don't you dare leave, Maxon!"

"I should go." His voice was quiet, soothing. He closed the gap between us turning me to face him. His eyes were kind and soft making my heart ache. I felt a quiver on my bottom lip. He cupped the sides of my head between his large palms and kissed my forehead. Our eyes then met. "We'll be together soon. And every night afterwards. My darling." He leaned in and gave me a sweet kiss. And I felt the loss as our lips parted. Then bowing his head to my mother left my room, softly closing the door that kept us separated and it was the worst sound I could've heard at that moment. I stood there missing him already and feeling sorry for myself.

I took a deep, steadying breath and whirled on my mother, my hands balled into fists at my side. She stood there, arms crossed and chin stiffly jutted, no doubt feeling triumphant at saving my virtue.

"I can't believe..."

I didn't get another word in edgewise. My mother swallowed me up in her arms, holding me tightly against her. "I am sooo proud of you, America!" Her words spoken for my ears only. Words that did not register.

"What?!"

"My blessed heart," she said, smiling broadly as she now held me at arms length. "You've never made your mother prouder." She wasn't lying. I could see the pride shining bright in her eyes which left me utterly confused. Wasn't she just yelling at me for acting like a little tramp?

"I think I need to sit down." I rubbed my temples feeling a headache begin to bloom as I sat on the edge of my bed.

My mother had to be committed to a mental institution. I would make sure of it after I married Maxon.

She joined me, wrapping an arm about my shoulders and said, "You have done excellently, my daughter. If His Majesty cannot keep himself restrained from you...you are assured to be queen, America."

"What are you talking about, mother? We are three days from getting married! Of course I'm already queen." What was wrong with this woman?

"Don't be so self-assured, America!" she chided. "Anything can happen in three days. Even a king can get cold feet at the altar. So, until he says those two little words, "I do." and makes you his wife and his queen, you cannot take anything for granted. So keep up the good work. Make sure to use all of your..." she gestured at my body, "God-given attributes to keep His Majesty where he belongs. In your bed."

I took a long look at my mother my mouth agape and no words could I find to reply.

Definitely. The woman had to be committed.

* * *

 **Just open the door, and you will see**  
 **This passion burns inside of me**  
 **Don't say to me, you'll never tell**  
 **Touch me there, make the move**  
 **Cast the spell**

Three solid knocks sounded on my bedroom door.

"Who is it?"

"Your husband to be in less than three hours."

The thought that my wedding day was finally here filled me with warmth and joy. I leaned against the closed door, a wide smile across my face.

"What can I do for you, my husband to be in less than three hours?"

"I wanted to tell you something."

"I'm listening."

"Will you open the door?"

"NO!" I cried. "You know it's bad luck for you to see the bride before the ceremony!"

He chuckled. "Alright...how about you crack the door and I will keep my eyes closed."

"Do you promise?"

"Eyes glued shut."

I cracked the door still shielding my body behind the wooden, mahogany slab.

"What did you need to tell me?" I asked wistfully.

"I wanted to tell you that... I love you."

My smile grew wider. My heart so full it slammed in my chest at his declaration. "And I you."

"You'll be my wife today."

The way the words flowed from his mouth, the sound of them warmed me inside. That Maxon had chosen me over all the others still made me dizzy with happiness.

"We made it." It was my turn to chuckle.

"We did."

"I can't wait to sleep in your arms tonight."

He gave a low, dark chuckle. "You won't be sleeping tonight, sweetheart."

"Oh?"

"Not a wink. I plan on devouring you tonight. All of you."

I must've whimpered loud enough for Maxon's ears.

He said, "We're going to have sex." His words curled my toes. "Lots of it."

My clit jumped. And I bit down another whimper. I took a deep breath to calm myself. "All night?" I teased.

"All night."

"Promise?"

"Guaranteed."

* * *

 ** _Okay reader's and faithful "Bedtime Stories" followers, now it's your turn to contribute!_**

 ** _DON'T FORGET TO SAVE A WRITER! PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!_**

 **So I got inspiration for this story from one of my favorite Michael Jackson songs "In the Closet" ~ Check out the video by clicking the link in my profile.**

 **If you left a review for** **Chapter 14 OR older chapters see my response in the "Reviews" section!**

 **If you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.**

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 **Stay tuned for the next Bedtime Story!**


	16. Witch's Brew

**Author's Notes:**

 **A late night celebration leaves America open to new titillating discoveries.**

 **This Bedtimes Story was based on a Guest Reviewer suggestion.**

 **This story in no way promotes the abuse of alcohol. If you are of legal age and choose to drink, please do so RESPONSIBLY and use a designated driver!**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Witch's Brew"**_

 **Drink deeply, my love.**  
 **Intoxicate yourself**  
 **with my presence;**  
 **Imbibe my essence**

 **I want to wet your lips,**  
 **Tantalize your tongue**  
 **Elevate your heart rate,**  
 **And make your veins hum.**  
 **Burn like fire inside you,**  
 **As you swallow me down.**

 **Drink me ~**

 **I want to make you,**  
 **So very dizzy,**  
 **Stumble-footed,**  
 **Room spinningly,**  
 **Drunk on love.**

~John Mark Green~

 _ **~ America**_

The celebration started innocently enough.

"Everyone…ready? 1,2,3…Go!" My brother's commanding voice booms, his emphatic words drowning us in the confines of the palace kitchen where Mary, Cook and I stand shoulder to shoulder on the opposite side of the aged wooden table.

With curious gazes we had watched our instructor as he demonstrated the ritual.

The directions were simple.

Lick the salt, down the shot, bite the lime.

And now like good students we do as instructed.

My face twists and my cheeks cave in from the bitterness of the amber liquid I had just downed and the lingering sour taste of citrus and salt. I start coughing, gulping for air, trying to cool my esophagus which I was certain had been stripped with a generous measure of turpentine. And I wasn't the only one. Mary echoes a similar hacking chorus of coughs and heaving breaths of her own. Cook merely shrugs off the effects with a growl and shake of his head.

"That is aw...awful!" I cry out, my chest blazing like a dozen torches. "Are you trying to kill us?!" I glare at Kota, blinking through watery eyes as I set the shot glass down with a shaky hand on the wooden kitchen table.

My brother only laughs in reply. "This here, little sis," he grins, lifting the bottle to me, "is prime stuff! The _really_ good stuff! Straight from Mr. Presidente's private collection," he professes as he refills our tiny glasses. Shot glasses he'd called them. "Eighty proof. Pumps life into your blood, doesn't it?!"

"The last I checked," I frown, another series of coughs tearing from my burning throat, "mine was... pumping just fine!" My palms rest flat against the table, framing that wicked little glass. The refilled, wicked little glass.

"Trust me, Mer… you'll be thanking me in no time at all."

"Are you kidding me?! I'm not drinking that stuff again!" I protest. I stick my tongue out as far as it can go attempting in vain to rid my taste buds of the bitter foulness lingering inside my mouth.

Mary, the devil standing at my right shoulder then says as she lifts her glass off the table, "Come on America! Don't be a party pooper! You have to! Even if it's to say you tried it at least once!"

My glare turns to Mary. "I did try it...just now!" But she flashes me one of her daring smiles. I stand erect with set shoulders, hands fixed on my hips. My ally had turned against me! Though in all honesty I wasn't surprised. It hadn't escaped my notice how cozy my brother and my lady-in-waiting had been getting on since his return. They might've believed no one had noticed but I had. Mary had never been too good at hiding the lust in her eyes for any male that caught her attention. And that telling look shined like a beacon whenever she looked Kota's way. Ewwww!

"Here, here! Listen to dear Mary, sis." I frown at Kota. The last thing my brother needed was more encouragement. "We're celebrating my success, remember? Aren't you happy for me?"

Guilt puts me to shame. "Of course I am," I say, my tone remorseful, chiding my stubbornness. My back immediately loses its stiffness; my arms fall at my sides like boneless limbs as my shoulders sag.

It's true. Kota and I had had our falling outs ever since dad died but he is still my brother. And I love him nonetheless. I should be happy for him. His career was taking off and he had scored huge on this newest commission– to sculpt seven life sized statuettes for the gardens of the Presidential palace in Mexico. He was the reason we were down here, in the belly of the palace celebrating. This opportunity would no doubt catapult him to worldwide notoriety; a status which my brother would indeed welcome with open arms. There was no denying his talent and being Maxon's brother-in-law didn't hurt the doors opening to him either.

"Like my granny always said, Your Majesty," Cook says, looking at me, "Where there is a cause for celebration, why not...let loose and indulge a little?" He grins, picking up the shot glass that had been filled to the rim.

"Your granny, Cook?" My brows shoot up in shock. "Did she really say that or are you spinning tall tales?" Grannies were sweet, little old ladies that knitted blankets for the needy and sipped tea. Chamomile tea. Not downed shots like a group of drunken sailors!

"Cross my heart. Words she lived by. Though granny never really needed a reason to imbibe," he adds with a reminiscent look. "Must've served her constitution well I suppose. The old bitty lived to 102."

Kota barks a hearty laugh, followed by chuckles from Mary.

"Sounds like granny knew how to live it up!" Kota notes, his words directed at me. I roll my eyes.

"Hear, hear!" Cook raises his glass in agreement.

Mary and Kota follow suit lifting their glasses in salute to granny and all sets of eyes are now glued on me.

I let out an exasperated sigh, reaching for my newly filled glass. "Fine!" The soft timbre of clinking glass bounces as we touch them together.

"To me! And... Granny!" Kota toasts, making Cook's smile broaden.

"Thank you, sir!"

Kota's eyes sparkle bright. I'm uncertain if the sudden glow he reflects is from the satisfaction of triumph that I would continue on in this silly game or had the alcohol induced his piqued appearance? But whatever the source he once again rings out the upbeat tempo of the celebratory game.

"1,2,3...Go!"

Lick, shot, lime.

Same facial reaction. Same rush of heat coursing my body. I hold on to the edge of the table this time around as my body strains from this assault. My eyes are shut so tight I think I see flashes of lightning!

I had never drank anything stronger than a glass of red wine and definitely not tequila shots!

"Wooo! That's what I'm talking _about_!" Kota hoots.

At the moment I'm not sure what the hell he is talking about since I feel like I have been set on fire from the inside out! But a strange feeling tells me I was going to find out sooner rather than later.

Another round follows. Cook and Mary both slam down their glasses with a thud having knocked back their drinks.

Cook runs the back of a weathered hand over his lips saying, "Hit me!"

Kota tips the bottle. "That's the spirit, Cook!

"Me too," Mary echoes. She cocks her head for me to fill my empty glass.

I nod and steel myself, my eyes watching as the Witch's brew pours into my glass and pools at the rim.

Lick, shot, lime.

Down the hatchet!

Lick, shot, lime.

Again.

And again.

An hour later and a near empty bottle...

"1 tequila, 2 tequila, 3 tequila…floor!" Kota bellows as a mixture of laughter fills the room that I was certain was spinning round and round like a carousel.

I am cackling like a witch on Halloween as I literally slither to the kitchen floor right alongside Mary.

"Oh…oh…that...that is hilarious! I can't…can't …" laughter rips out from both of us and I can't seem to recall what I had found so damn funny in the first place. But laughing 'til my sides ache feels so...liberating.

"Cook's...naaaame!" Mary cackles.

I burst into laughter all over again, tears streaming down from the corners of my eyes.

"Sh...Sh...Shannon?!" Mary cries aloud and we both lean against the other in uncontrollable laughter.

Moments later after laughing ourselves until my belly ached, "Come on little sis," I hear Kota say, his words muffled as if a thick glass wall separated us. "Let's get you back to your room before I literally have to scrape you off the floor."

"Whaaaat?" I scrunch my face. "Speak up, Kota!" He sounds so far away!

I feel my body being moved but my head feels odd…heavy and wobbly, like one of those bobbleheads Gerad likes to collect. Hideous looking things. And my limbs, oh god!...moved like the disjointed, floppy limbs on a marionette.

Kota grunts as he hefts me to my feet, quickly wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me upright. My knees buckle and give way. "Good thing your husband's not here," he grinds out, "otherwise I'd lose my head for sure."

"Maxon! Ohhh...Maxon! I miss him soooo much," I pout.

"I'm sure you do, my little drunken queen."

"Who's dr…drunk?" Why did my tongue feel like it had been given a hefty dose of lidocaine?

" _You_ are."

"I am not!" My voice booms off the walls inside my skull. I push out of Kota's arms, stumbling forward.

"Woah! Woah, there, Mer. Easy now."

"Let go of me, Kota!"

"Unless you want to face plant on that pretty little face of yours…I don't think so. The last thing I need is explaining to Maxon how his pretty little wife ended up breaking that perfectly gifted nose."

"I broke my nose?!"

"Upsy daisy!" The world spins in a blur as I am swept off my feet.

The sweeping motion has me laughing hysterically and I fling my legs as if I were sitting on a swing; arms stretched wide to my sides. "Weeee...This is aaawesome!" My head drops back and I feel myself smiling, closing my eyes, reveling in the wondrous weightless sensation of my body. My chest feels warm and fuzzy; my head pleasantly dull. I feel an overwhelming sense of pure joy!

"Maaaxon! I looove it when you sweep me off my feet!" I throw my arms around Maxon's neck.

"Uhh...not Maxon...and pleeease keep lips to self!"

That is not Maxon's voice, my dulled brain registers. _Not Maxon...not Maxon...NOT MAXON!_

Eyes flashing open, "Put me down you beast!" I cry as I pound on Kota's shoulder. "I can walk on my...my own t-two f…fee…feeet!"

"I know, Mer. I know..."

"Puuut meee down!"

But Kota doesn't put me down as I hear him say something to Cook whose voice sounds as if I have wads of cotton stuffed in my ears.

And then I am floating again. Gloriously riding on a puffy white cloud.

"Damn it! I told you to put me down, you ingrate! I order you! I am your Queen!"

I feel like two different people are trapped in my body. One fights for control of my reality while the other feeds on my fantasies. And I have command of neither.

"Ahhh…but sisterhood trumps queenhood, little sis."

"HA! That is not _EVEN_ a wooord!"

The rumble of his laughter shakes against the side of my head, making it swim harder. But, I wrap my arms around my brother feeling tucked away and oddly safe.

"You were always so damn stubborn."

"And you, Ko-ta were always such an ass."

Another rumble of laughter. "You only thought so because I wouldn't bend to your will."

"Nuh...uh! Not true."

"Hmph…right. Remember that time you fell from the treehouse and twisted your ankle? How you fought me to carry you back to the house because you didn't want mom or dad to find out?"

"I c…coulda wa…walked on my own."

"Like I said…stubborn little witch."

I laugh. Did I just laugh?

Maybe it was my hazy, muddled mind that realized that conversation with Kota hadn't been this easy and free in a very long time. But one thing I felt even through my foggy brain. He loved me.

"Where are we...we...going?"

"Back to your quarters...where you can sleep this off."

"I don't want to go to bed! Maxon's not...ho...home."

" _Yet_...Which means if we don't sober you up, he's going to chew my ass for this."

I chuckle. "Now _THAT_...would be funny!"

"Would not."

"Would to!"

"Not!"

"To!"

"Witch."

"Ass."

We laugh.

Kota carries me up the stairs when he starts to hum. It touches a place in me he hasn't touched in quite some time.

"Will you sing me our song? It's been...a long t-time since you sang it to me."

He goes silent for a moment. "I know, Mer."

"Sing...song..."

Her growls in response.

"Pleeeease?"

"Demanding little witch, are ya?"

But, like the big brother I remembered, soon he begins to sing our song; the one he wrote just for me before he made sculpting his craft. How I loved that song!

 **🎵"I remember when,**  
 **Little sister**  
 **You were six, I was eight**  
 **Baby sister,**  
 **You tried, desperately,**  
 **For attention from me.**

 **Would you settle for a hug,**  
 **For now,**  
 **Little baby sister of mine..."🎵**

I wasn't sure when Kota stopped singing, I must've drifted off a minute or two. All too soon he says, "Here we are. Safe and sound."

My feet rest on the floor beneath me. I shake my head feeling dizzy as hell but Kota's right there still holding me fast.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?"

I give an unlady like snort. "No thanks! You've d…done enough damage for one night!"

I see two Kota's smiling back at me. "I am…proud of you…," I tell him.

His lips press against my brow. "Goodnight, Mer."

He turns to leave but I clutch the sleeve of his shirt. "Wait...Mary…"

A roguish smile creeps along his mouth revealing a perfect row of white teeth.

"Don't fret, Mer. I won't bone your friend…that is, if she doesn't want me to."

"Uggghhh…you're sooo gross!" I nudge his chest with a hand.

Both Kota's chuckle at me.

"Rest well, little sis." He kisses my forehead again and turns away.

"Promise!" I holler. He merely bows and disappears down the hall.

"Damn it," I mutter, wryly. "At least someone's bed will be rocking tonight. I know it. They can't fool me!" I turn the knob and step into my dimly lit room.

"Yeah, well it won't be ours, America," Myself replies to me.

"Yeah? Well, that...sucks!" I agree with Myself.

The dim yellow light of the lamp on the night stand feels suffocating and suddenly I feel clammy and overheated. "Oh my Gooood! Why is it so hot in here?!"

I stumble into Maxon's bedroom…no, our bedroom and I remember he isn't here.

And suddenly I have an urgent need to pee. I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

 **🎵"96 bottles of beer on the wall**  
 **96 bottles of beer,**  
 **If one of those bottles should happen to fall...,🎵**

85…no…86 bottles…" Laughter…my laughter fills the bathroom.

I'm standing in front of the mirror. What the hell happened to my clothes?!

I slap a hand against my flushed cheek…three of me...I squeeze my eyes tight and open them to find instead of three I count six of me staring back.

"Are you ready to go on a walk-about?" My many me's ask.

A sputtering laugh slips through my lips. "Noooooo…Shannon!"

Laughter bounces off the bathroom walls again. "Shannon! God…Maxon's going to get a kick out of that one!" I giggle to my many selves.

And then the mere thought of Maxon quells my giddiness, conjures his naked image vividly when I close my eyes...so perfect and masculine. I inhale, remembering his scent and how I pleasured him on my knees right before he left. I can see the look in his eyes...that look he bores into me when he makes love to me. And I see my hands travel up his sculpted arms, over his chest, his back and down to caress his nice ass.

I hear a moan and I realize it came from me. My hand is between my legs.

"Ohhh…"

And I have a sudden urge flaming in my core. I know it well. I feel the throb and I clench my thighs because I want…I want to fuck. And Maxon isn't here. It's that damn tequila! I will kill my brother... tomorrow. "Rest well, my ass!" I hiss swinging the bathroom door open.

And I must be hallucinating because Maxon is standing there and my heart bolts like a team of wild horses!

* * *

 _ **~ Maxon**_

I check my watch just before entering my bedroom. It's half past Midnight. Instead of spending another night away from home, I decided to leave right after the conference and fly back to America.

I wished to surprise my wife so I had chosen not to call ahead. I imagined her sleeping peacefully in our bed and couldn't wait to take her in my arms, breathe her. I had discovered there was nothing better than sleeping next to America. The comfort I found when snuggled next to her was incomparable to any other place on this earth. I'd gather it would make no difference if I slept in a palace on a bed fit for a king or in a tent outdoors under the stars because no matter the surface or my location on the map, my sleep would be just as sweet as long as I had her at my side.

Carefully opening the door so as not to wake America I slip inside. What greets my ears instead of the familiar quiet of night as I scan the untouched bed in my dimly lit bedroom is singing. I would recognize that voice anywhere but it sounds a bit...off? "Darling?" I call but there is no response. Laughter now booms from the bathroom.

I call America. Again no response. I hear her voice which sounds slightly muffled through the door and whatever she's saying I can't seem to make sense of. I raise my hand to knock the door wondering if she is okay as worry starts to shoot up my spine.

When the door swings open...a sight greets my eyes. I'm rendered dumb. Before I can manage an intelligent thought, America's naked body is in my arms and she's peppering kisses all over my face. An unfamiliar scent passes between us.

"You're home or am I dreaming? You feel sooo...reeeal!"

"Surprise?"

"Yesss...Mmmm...," she coos as she presses her lips to mine. Is that alcohol I smell? "You taste very real! Very real indeed!" She giggles against my mouth then releases a sigh saying, "I missed you, Maaaxon. So...so veeery much." Her arms wrap around my shoulders like a vice.

"Have you been drinking, darling?" That and several other questions rush through my head at once, each demanding an answer.

She merely chuckles taking a step back, her perfect body in full, glorious display. "And what if I have been? Are you going to spank me?"

I arch a brow. Spank her? Her words are a dare and I know it. But this is a different America standing before me. And I wasn't prepared to handle this scenario. Her eyes are sparked with mischief even though I can see she is clearly drunk. Her cheeks are flushed, framed by fiery red whisps of hair. She is as tempting as the forbidden fruit in Eden and she enthralls me. And damn, if I am not thinking of eating her right now. I can almost taste her and my mouth waters.

Reining my shameless thoughts, I chuckle. "No. I'm not going to spank you...this time."

She bites down on her lower lip, flashig big, blue eyes in my direction. "I've been a very naughty girl, you know."

Lord have mercy! Blood, as unstoppable as a dam that has just crested rushes through my veins. I take in a deep breath trying to quiet the thumping in my chest, the eagerness I feel growing in my pants. "Naughty, you say?"

"I'm a baaad girl, Maxon. I deserve to be punished."

I grab America and pull her against my body, pinning her wrists behind her. She lets out a gasp of surprise. Her eyes look at me expectantly. Begging me. And a part of me regrets being fully clothed. I could grant her her wish but she's not herself and taking advantage of my drunken wife although tempting as it is, it's not something I can bring myself to do.

Brushing my lips against hers I say, "Not tonight, baby." When I do spank her, I want her to remember it.

"Fine. If you won't then perhaps..." she whispers sultrily as she moves to turn in my arms. I loosen my grip on her wrists allowing freeness of motion. "I can convince you to do other naughty things to me." Her back presses against my chest now and her bare ass rubs against my outstanding erection.

"You want to...don't you?" She whispers to me over her shoulder. "Do naughty things to me? Fuck me?"

Damn me. Yes! YES!

I pull her bottom flush to me making her gasp deliciously. I shouldn't encourage her but I do nuzzling her neck with my mouth. I can barely hold myself in check.

My body vibrates with desire and my heart is so amped I can hear it beating in my ears. I want nothing more than to sink my hardened cock deep inside America's yearning pussy. I can imagine how hot she is. How wet. How slick. And as I desperately fight to keep myself from cracking her bottom rubs more insistently against me.

"I feel how hard you are for me, Maxon. You can't hide it. You want me."

Her arm curves behind her and I anticipate what she's reaching for. My dick. I take hold of her wrist.

"Behave yourself." My voice is gentle but full of authority.

"No. I will not!" She turns to face me, then just as quickly that fiery, defiant gaze morphs into something raw and dripping with sexual allure.

America takes my hands and places them without apprehension, directly over the round mounds of her breasts. Holds them in place. She sighs contentedly. "Miss these?" I want to bury my face between them, yes! I feel the hardened little nubs I'm dying to suck and pull between my teeth, flick with my tongue, tickle the center of my palms. It takes everything in my power not to squeeze.

After placing tantalizing kisses to the corners of my mouth, she says, "I can bend over that chair there" she nods to the Queen Anne chair a few feet away, "and you can take me from behind like how you like to do. And fuck me as hard as you want."

I bite back a groan as my cock, the single-minded bastard that it is, pulsates. _'Down boy, down!'_ I reprimand myself but if she kept up with the dirty talk all bets were going to be off!

"As tempting as the offer is sweetheart..." She yelps in surprise as I sweep her off her feet. "How about we tuck you nice and cozy in bed so you can sleep it off?"

"Sleep?!" She cries as I turn, carrying her to our bed. "I don't want to sleep! I'M HORNY AND I WANT TO FUCK!"

Her outburst makes me chuckle but she looks damn serious.

"What's so funny?! She frowns, I WANT TO FUCK! F.U.C.K! FUUUCK!"

"Shhhh...baby," I say with a soothing tone. "You'll wake the dead." I've never had a drunk America to deal with!

"Don't you shush me!" America retorts as I set her on the bed. "Are you listening..."

I press my mouth against hers to silence her and she goes completely languid in my arms. Our lips meld together and the kiss works to quiet, soothe her down. I don't want her rousing the entire palace. But even as her quiet moan vibrates against my lips, I feel the fringes of the storm in her. America wastes no time in deepening the kiss, slipping her tongue into my mouth, her fingers in my hair. I groan loudly as my body's desire swells. I kiss her, hunger for her betraying me, fanning the embers set to ignite us both into flaming fire.

I am being consumed. Desire licks every inch of me. I manage to break the kiss. "Enough." I grapple for control, pulling away, knowing myself all too well. Every man has a breaking point and mine is ready to snap if I don't put some distance between us.

America persists. Her mouth follows mine like a magnet as I move to stand next to the bed. She eases up on to her knees before me, meeting me eye to eye. Our eyes lock for a moment. I pause in admiration of her beauty– those striking blue eyes rimmed by long eyelashes. Her swollen lips. So kissable. So damn perfect. With a feather's touch, the pads of my fingers brush her cheek. She nudges into my hand like a feline wanting to be pet.

"Maxon..."

"No."

"I need you." Her fingers grip the lapels of my suit jacket. America sweeps those perfect, kissable lips across mine, once...twice. "Fuck me."

"I can't, America."

"But why?"

"Because darling...I won't be gentle." A little whimper escapes her.

"Good."

My cock strains at her bold approval. At the scent of her arousal, my nostrils flare making me harder still. Five long fingers slip into her hair curling around the silken locks as if they were a rope tethering me to reality while I fight the urge to push her into the pillows and fuck her.

"I won't take advantage of you."

"But I want you to."

If she only realized how much I would love to! Instead I smile and kiss her forehead. "How about I ring for some tea?"

"I don't want tea!" She protests. "I want you!" And then her voice softens with yearning, "I want...I want this body. Skin to skin." She whispers, her breath brushes against my ear, "All over me. Deep inside me." Damn her. My feet are rooted to the floor, her words betwitching me; calling for me to act. Small hands slip under my jacket tracing the expanse of my chest. My nipples harden under the starchy material of my dress shirt.

She coaxes another kiss. Damn, she's just as good at getting what she wants inebriated as she is when she's sober. She begins to rid me of my jacket. It falls to the floor. Her mouth teases the line of my jaw. I can feel my resolve being chipped away with each press of her lips on my skin. I loosen my tie, yank it off while she yanks my shirt from my pants. Sensous lips skim my neck, the button of my collar undone, giving her room to lick and suck. And I don't know who's more drunk now? America or I?

It's that thought that brings me back from the lull of her seduction that I take her hands as she draws them up under my shirt, halting her motion. I bring them to my lips. After giving each a soft kiss, I set them down between us. It barely moves the gauge to slow my heart rate and I feel near breathless.

"Tea." I barely get the word out. "I'll...get you some tea." I turn to move but she grabs on to the material of my shirt at my waist.

"Forget the damn tea!"

"It will relax you, sweetheart."

"I feel perfectly fine...now...where were we?"

"Tea...remember?"

She keeps a firm grip on my shirt as I move. "Wait!"

A tender, patient smile tugs my mouth. I know she's stalling. "What is it darling?" I say whisper-like. Turning so we are facing each other, our faces so close our breaths mingle. Her hands run up and down my arms in a titillating caress.

"We don't have to fuck...but...can I?"

I know I shouldn't ask because honestly, I'd be baiting her but I can't stop myself. "Can you, what?"

"Can I...taste you...just...just a little?"

Her hand slips past my weakened defenses to cup my cock which she's just made that much harder with her naughty request. She begins to rub the full girth of my rigidness. I inhale a steady breath to calm myself but it has the opposite effect as I pick up her scent once more. I want to dive my fingers between the folds of her sex. Make her come with my name on her lips.

"I want to suck your cock. Please, Maxon."

I debate with my cock as she continues to stroke it over my pants.

"Pleeeease... don't make me beg..."

I don't stand a chance in hell as the words slip past my lips before I can stop them. "You never have to beg, America. Never."

America smiles at me. It shatters my resolve but my dick had already decided whether my rational mind liked it or not, it needed attention. And was going to get it.

America tugs at my belt, making quick work of it. I unzip my pants, my erection continuing to strain for release. I hook my thumbs into the waist pushing my pants down my hips along with my boxers. America eagerly assists.

Freed from its confines, my impressive dick bobs at attention before her. Her warm fingers wrap around my length illiciting tremors of pleasure that ripple from the crown of my head down to my very toes. A groan rips from my throat as I instinctively push into her hand wetting her palm with the clear, sugary droplet at my tip.

She lowers unto her stomach, pushing my dress shirt out of the way.

"Sooo nice..." she strokes skillfully from my tip to the base. I feel overheated and over dressed as I work the cuffs of my shirt, feverishly working the cufflinks as I watch America lick her fingers wrapping them around my veined rod. My thighs tremble in anticipation. I'm so fucking hard and aroused and excited.

She doesn't linger with foreplay but takes me full on. And down her throat. "Uhhh...fuck, yesss." I only manage to undo half the buttons on my shirt, twining her hair in my hands, the rest of the buttons forgotten as her lips hungrily glide over me. Her little moans and gasps as she comes up for breath serve to chisel away any lingering resistance. I watch America not being able to look in any other direction. Her tongue teases the rimmed edge, swirling over, around it. She moans taking only the mushroom head into her mouth, sucking it, savoring it. I love watching the way her lips peel back from my swollen tip; her tongue snaking around it to tease me. I suck in a breath from the way the sight makes me shiver.

America resumes a steady but eager pace, head sliding back and forth determined to bring me to completion. She swallows me deep again making me grunt in bliss as my sensative head bores into the channel of her throat. My head falls back in blinding pleasure, my fingers tight in her hair. I slide from her throat and I'm devoured once more just as she had done before. My cock bucks in the narrow channel as pressure grows in my balls, ready to explode. Thankfully, she disengages her lips but dives south to secure a tender orb in her mouth. With my eyes glued on her, she looks up at me, cheeks caving slightly, sucking gently. Then she takes the other. It feels fantastic. She repeats the action...I growl.

"Okay, baby...you got a taste."

"Noooo..." she begins kissing up the faint line of hair under my navel. "Not...enough." Past my navel... "Never...enough." Between my pecs. She pushes aside my shirt flicking her tongue over a nipple. I tilt her chin up and fuse my mouth against hers; our kiss is hot, full of tongue...full of need. I've officially come undone as I grab handfuls of her ass.

America begins to rid me of my shirt. I devilishly move her hand to where I want it; on my cock. I wrap her fingers around my warm, masculine length, leave her there to handle business as I continue to undress. Once every last stitch of clothing is on the floor I climb on to the bed amidst showers of feverish kisses on my face, neck, shoulders, pecs as if my little vixen couldn't decide where to start or stop.

Easing impatiently back on the pillows, America grabs unto my hips as she opens her legs for me. I hover over her, kissing between the gorgeous mounds of her breasts. She tilts her hips upwards, brushing the swells of her womanhood against my sensitive tip. That brief contact almost makes me forget my name.

"Easy, darling..." I try to tame her, whispering smoothly in her ear as she seeks to impale herself with me.

"I...oh my...God! I need you now, damn it!"

Her hands are clamped firmly on my ass, pulling me down as she thrusts upward. I intervene, wedging a couple of fingers between her folds. Shit, she's dripping. A loud, "UHHHH!" bursts from her lips and she clutches the pillows when I push at her entrance and plunge two fingers inside.

Her body greedily feasts, riding my fingers like she can't get enough. I encourage her more, telling her to ride harder, faster. She obeys. I want to see her shatter into a million pieces. She undulates on my hand, the swaying movements of her hips, a dance of pure delight. I am held captive by the sight alone. My hand between my lover's legs watching as her body finds pleasure only I can grant. Then I feel her walls tighten and she's resisting but hell no, I'm not having it.

"Let go, sweetheart...for me." I crush my mouth against hers pressing my thumb over her very swollen clit, rubbing with hard, precise, circular swirls.

She erupts with a cry that must've reached heaven. It fills the room and I duck between her legs filling my mouth with the delicious taste of her climax coating my tongue. I push against her inner thighs, parting her further. I hear myself moaning pleasureably as I suckle her tented, engorged hood. Eating, tasting, drinking her. So sweet. So fucking sweet. She lifts her hips but I hold her firm against the mattress as I eat and drink...and savor to my satisfaction.

I've completely lost all sense and I feel as intoxicated, drunk on lust as America is on whatever runs through her blood. Because now I'm on top. I find her opening as she eagerly lifts her bottom off the mattress in my direction. I hear her gasp once I sink my cock into her in one hard thrust. A deep and unforgivingly hard thrust. The contact is explosive. America's fingernails dig into my shoulders as she accepts me and absorbs each and every drive of my hips into her. I take her hard; there would be no tenderness tonight. And we're both loving this, reveling in this carnal feast.

We kiss and nip at each other. Hands leaving no patch of skin untouched. I palm her breasts as I move inside her, squeezing them to twin peaks. My teeth rake over the tender litte pink buds wringing several shouts from her pretty mouth. America is a beast demanding more and not quietly. She's vocal about what she wants, what she likes and I aim to please draping her legs over my shoulders as she cries to fuck her harder. Damn if that's not sexy.

And when she gets on top...taking every inch of my dick, pleasuring herself with my body; her breasts bouncing...my fingers reaching to tweak her nipples...watching the fire in her body flare white hot... watching her face as she comes all over me...shouting my name to the rooftop... A guy couldn't have asked for better sex. My balls will soon thank me.

Of course I am not only the Giver as I take what I please, how I please with no pangs of conscience because my dick hasn't one. As I fuck America on our bed, taking her from behind, my hands cuffing her wrists, I continue filling her over and over. And to her credit she takes it, my thrusts making the frame of the bed creak and rock and thump against the wall; the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh joining the beat. My blood roars in my ears. And I am taken to another plane of existence where I allow myself release at last, watching as stripes of my love land beautifully between her shoulder blades, small of her back and over her ass.

I'm on my knees between her legs, my damp chest heaving, my head feeling a tad dizzy whereas my balls are feeling quite happy.

"You naughty boy... You made a big mess." America teases me over her shoulder.

I give the side of her ass a loving slap. "The sort I love making." I grin cockily as I admire the evidence of my climax on the velvet canvas of her back.

And as if I needed any excuse to harden again, America reaches to the well of my seed that's pooled in the dip of the small of her back. Coats two fingertips, opens her mouth and sucks them off.

"Mmmm...You're delicious," she purrs. "I think I need another shot...of you."

I smile...wicked.

* * *

 _ **~ The next morning...**_

I hear moaning from beneath the sheets as the body hidden under begins to stir. Seconds later America's head surfaces and her hands immediately cover her eyes. "Will someone please turn off the lights?!" She groans.

I can't help my smile as I walk over to the bed with a cup of hot tea. "Good afternoon, sweetheart." Setting the cup down on the night stand I take a seat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"Maxon? What...time is it?" Her voice sounds a bit on the scratchy side. I suppose her throat did get quite a workout last night, I muse.

I lean over, stirring the cup of tea. I've prepared it just the way she likes it, orange spice with a touch of honey. I glance at my watch. "Almost 2 o'clock."

"In the afternoon?!" She bolts up to sit only to fall back unto the downy pillows with a loud groan. "I feel awwwful..." Her hands cradle her head.

"It's called a hangover, my little drunken queen."

She utters a louder groan and covers her face with both hands. Her reaction makes me chuckle. "God...I'm sooo embarrassed." She pulls her hands away and looks at me. Her cheeks are dotted pink bringing a bit of color to her wan appearance. Even hungover, she's beautiful. "I'm so sorry. I must be a dreadful sight."

"You're the most beautiful hungover drunk I've ever seen."

"Right." She starts to laugh but the humor is short-lived as she moans. "Ugh...don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."

"Here. Sit up." I help her, rearranging the pillows against the headboard as she scoots back. I grin as she modestly covers herself with the sheet.

"I feel like I've been run over by a troop of elephants. Ugh! I swear I'll never touch that Witch's brew for as long as I live!"

"Cook sent a remedy. He says it'll help you recover faster."

I hand her the cup. She sniffs it first. "Tea?"

I nod. "Your favorite. So drink now...questions later."

She sips and sighs. "It's much better than that Witch's brew!"

"I imagine. I got the details from Cook by the way. Remind me never to leave you in your brother's care ever again."

She takes another long sip looking at me over the rim. "I'm sorry I ruined your surprise."

"No. You didn't."

"Was I dreadful?" She hands me the cup.

"Well, you weren't the worst drunk...a bit ornery...overly bossy, demanding...loud...and might I add, a very insatiable appetite."

She groans again and lifts the bedsheet from her bosom as if recalling a startling fact.

"And we had sex!"

"Oh...we did. In several locations actually," I look around the bedroom. "And you were right about the Queen Anne chair."

She gasps, clutching the white sheet against her mouth. "I remember..."

"I'll never forget."

"You shameless rogue."

"Guilty as charged."

"I was a naughty girl, wasn't I?"

"Extremely."

"Well...don't you think?..."

"Tell me."

"That I deserve a spanking?"

"Oh, darling,... I'm planning on it."

* * *

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	17. The Treehouse

**Author's Notes:**

 **America and Maxon visit Carolina and amidst feelings of nostalgia our couple begin to explore the next chapter in their lives.**

 **This Bedtimes Story was based on one of my favorite Guest Reviewer suggestions!**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"The Treehouse"**_

 **We made love**  
 **In a treehouse.**

 **Perched in the night sky,**  
 **The stars gazed**  
 **And made wishes upon us,**  
 **To one day**  
 **Shine as bright as we did**  
 **That night.**

 _ **Late one evening in the Royal Bedroom...**_

 _ **~ America**_

 _"In other news, local leaders and the Historical Commissions Board of the province of Carolina have unanimously voted to designate the_ _house where Illéa's own Queen America spent her childhood and formative years, a historical landmark._

 _Preparations are under way to restore the Queen's humble home back to the days when her family resided there during her Selection._

 _We caught up with Carolina's mayor, Mr. Willard Preston, who kindly shared his thoughts on the decision."_

 _'"The people of our province of course, are very proud, indeed. We trust that all of Illéa will appreciate the significance of our Queen's roots..."'_

"I still can't believe it, Maxon. My little house is going to be turned into a museum."

I turned from the television, pinning my hair up as I prepared for bed. My bare feet padded towards our large, four poster bed where Maxon sat, his back cushioned against the headboard.

"I think your mother was more besides herself than you were when we received the news. I don't think I've ever seen the woman speechless before."

I laughed. "Me either and I've known her a lot longer than you have," I said, climbing on the bed next to Maxon as he clicked the TV off.

"It's exciting, though. Who would've ever thought that a house belonging to a Five would be considered worthy enough to preserve for generations to come?"

"I don't think it's insignificant, darling," Maxon said as I snuggled against his chest. "I think it will be a symbol of inspiration to the lower castes and especially now as we look towards reform. And personally I like to think of it as the place that produced the most precious thing in my life."

Maxon lowered his head, kissing me so softly my toes curled.

"You always say the right thing."

"I admit I have my moments, Mrs. Schreave."

"I like your moments, Mr. Schreave."

We smiled and shared another sweet kiss.

Once again I settled on Maxon's bare chest, resting my hand over his right pec. His regular workouts with Markson had continued to improve his already masculine physique. I loved the feel of hard muscle beneath my palm.

I sighed.

"What's the matter?"

He knew me so well now that he could decipher my feelings by the sounds of my sighs.

It was surreal how close Maxon and I had become over the past year. It felt as if he'd always been a part of my life. I guess in a way he always had been. But, now he was a part of me and I was a part of him. I suppose that's what marriage does– bonds two souls so tightly you really do become one. Now, I couldn't image my life with anyone else.

"I haven't been back home since dad died. It'll feel strange stepping foot back through those doors knowing he won't be there. I miss him, Maxon."

Maxon's arms tightened around me. I slipped my arm around his waist. "I know."

I knew Maxon understood. We had both lost parents in the span of a couple of weeks. A heart condition had taken my dad from me all too soon; Maxon's parents had been taken from him during that awful rebel attack. It had been a rough patch for the both of us but through it all we had managed to lean on one another. I wouldn't have wanted anyone else by my side now that I think back on things.

"I've always wondered what a morning in the Singer household must've been like."

My somber thoughts were quickly replaced by lighter, happier ones. I chuckled as memories flashed through my mind. "Utter chaos."

"I think a little chaos is good. It must've been great." I looked at Maxon's face. He was smiling as if he were trying to picture it all in his mind's eye.

"If you think my mother yelling for us to get out of bed, making the mad dash downstairs to breakfast and hauling ass to get to work is great…well, that's a matter of perspective, I suppose."

He laughed. "Beautiful chaos, that's what I'd call it." He paused and then looking at me added, "It's exactly the kind of home I want."

"Madness, you mean?"

"Yes…madness. You know what life had been for me, America– always regimented…scheduled. Everything in my life revolved around the hands of a clock. I want a real home, America. With lots of noise and lots laughter. I've always been envious of people that had that. I never had siblings to fight with or play with or even talk to. I barely had any friends…"

I listened to Maxon as he talked. I always took all of those very things for granted. The noise, the commotion, the good times and the ones that weren't so good. My little house hadn't been a palace but it was our home. It was warm, full of life…full of love. Sure, we had our problems like everyone else, I mean, no family is perfect but yet we were bonded, flaws and all…and now listening to Maxon made my chest tighten.

I wanted to give Maxon all of those things– everything but, I wasn't sure I was ready to take that next step. Starting a family would be exciting but it was still too soon. I needed more time. And honestly, I was being a little selfish. I wanted my time with Maxon. We were young and just married a little over a year. Right now, children? I wasn't sure. Maxon hadn't raised the subject yet but it was only a matter of time…

"Maxon?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, America."

I snuggled closer to Maxon, inhaling his scent, letting the warmth of his body caress me. I listened to the beat of his heart as my head rested on his chest. This was home. In his arms I was home. I closed my eyes and thought about my little, humble house. There were so many parts of me molded within those walls that made me who I am. It _was_ a special place. I wanted that for Maxon.

And now I couldn't wait to show him where it all began.

* * *

 ** _Two months later…_**

We were finally on our way to my childhood home. After arriving in Carolina three days ago, our schedule has been non-stop. Between meeting with the historical society and various province magistrates and city leaders, attending functions and dinner parties and giving one speech after another, I was more than happy and excited to get this special opportunity with my husband.

We were riding in the limo on the way to my house that was now a museum when Maxon said, "So…do I get a personal tour of your old stomping grounds? I always wondered what your bedroom looked like."

Members of the historical society would be on hand to greet us once we arrived but I wanted unsupervised time to take it all in…and yes, I wanted nothing more than to give Maxon that personal tour.

"It was a small room…four walls, a window, floor, a roof and a bed. It was nothing special."

Maxon cocked a brow at me. "Hmmm…I remember saying the same thing to you about _my_ room but that didn't stop your curiosity, did it now?"

"But _you_ were the Prince of Illéa. What girl in her right mind would pass up that opportunity?" I blushed, remembering that first visit to his bedroom and how he'd pinned me against his wall of pictures. I still get shivers whenever I think about that kiss!

"Fair enough."

"It's not that exciting, really," I assured him.

Maxon turned to me with a crooked smile. "I can make anything exciting. Maybe I can pretend to be your boyfriend and sneak into your room so I could get fresh with you."

I laughed out loud. "We are not going to have sex in my old room!" I whisper-cried. Even though our section of the limo was partitioned from the driver's side by a privacy window, I wasn't taking any chances.

"Come on. Tell me you've never thought about it." Maxon pressed his mouth to my ear. I felt a flush of guilt recalling how Aspen had done that sort of thing when we had been secretly dating. But Maxon's words were a lulling whisper, painting the scene in my mind as he said, "Me, crawling through your window in the middle of the night; slipping beneath the covers with you…kissing you like this…"

I moaned as he swept the tip of his tongue over my lips. This was not the time and definitely not the place for seduction. Maxon as usual had other ideas. He teased me with his mouth not giving me what I wanted as heat rose in my core.

"Touching you, like this…" He cupped my breast, finding my nipple hard against the fabric of my dress. I gasped, swatting his hand away.

"Maxon! Not here!" What I really wanted was his mouth suckling on that very nipple but I had to pretend to ward him off at least.

Mischief sparked in his eyes. He moved his hand to my bare knee. "I would touch you in places so gently, America…" He distracted me with a kiss, pulling my bottom lip between his teeth and devilishly slipping his tongue into my mouth as he snaked his hand up my dress. My body melted at his warm touch; as his hand splayed over my upper thigh. I gave a tiny whimper as Maxon sucked in a breath when his fingers brushed the tender little bud hidden under my panty.

Damn him. He knew...damn well knew resisting his advances was my major weakness. I wouldn't stop him. He could do as he pleased and I, like a shameless hussy spread my legs a little wider, yearning, begging for his touch. My fingers dug deeper into the leather of the seat as he circled his thumb over my sensitive, feminine hood. Maxon growled low in his throat.

"And…next?" I managed to speak, my voice straining with need, my heart slamming, my pulse racing.

 _"We've arrived your Majesties,"_ the driver's voice crooned over the intercom.

I groaned. I was aching for release but instead was left panting, quivering and on the verge of screaming.

Maxon chuckled as he moved his hand away. Giving my knee a squeeze, he wore that satisfied grin that spoke a million naughty words.

I narrowed my eyes.

He pressed a kiss to my mouth, adding against my lips, "We'll finish this later."

"You better."

He chuckled again and brought the back of my hand to his mouth. He swept his lips across my skin making me break out in lovely goosebumps. He flashed me that look that instantly set me ablaze. Would it be indecent to fuck the King of Illéa in the back of a limousine?

The door opened and along with that went all of my naughty thoughts.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Maxon asked me as we stood at the front door.

My feet were anchored to the ground and why were my palms cold and all clammy? The ease of comfort I had enjoyed in the limo with Maxon had been replaced by a weight I could only describe as anxiety. There were so many memories behind this door. And one of the biggest pieces was missing. Knowing I couldn't stand out here like a statue all day I took a deep breath. Maxon's hand rested on my lower back easing the tendrils of anxiety I felt. I nodded. "I think so."

He gave a reassuring nod and I reached for the knob. The smoothess of it was like an imprint in my hand...so familiar. Turning it I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside, Maxon following closely behind.

I hit a wall of emotions as I took in the space. As if recalling ghosts from the past, I could clearly see my family– Gerad, May, Kenna and Kota...mom and dad; could hear their voices and recall the sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen as mom went about dinner and the aromas from her cooking that welcomed me home on so many days. And there was dad, paint in his hair still smiling but weary after a long day's work. I choked up.

"It's so much smaller than I remember, " were the first words out of my mouth.

Maxon stood at my side wearing the biggest smile on his face as he looked about. "The Singer house. I love it."

His words and that smile he wore seemed to settle me. "It's amazing...truly." I noted. "It almost feels as if we'd never left." Turning to Maxon I offered a soft smile, taking his hand, "Let me give you the grand tour, sir."

"Please. I've been waiting for this since the day we met."

He was so happy to be here and that alone was worth it to me.

I pulled Maxon along entering our small dining room to our left. The table was covered with a linen tablecloth I recognized we only used for special occasions and that made me smile.

Running my fingers across the wooden table set for five I said, "We shared so many meals at this table. Dad would sit there, " I pointed to the head of the table, "Mom over on the other end. My seat was this one."

"Next to your dad," observed Maxon.

"Naturally," I smiled. "And May and Gerad sat across from me."

"I can imagine the lively discussions at the Singer dinner table."

I laughed. "Lively is one word for it. Did you know that at this very table my dear mother ambushed me with my Selection letter?"

"Ambushed?!"

"Yes! I've told you the woman pulls no punches. In the middle of dinner, she yanks out the letter and reads it out loud knowing full well I was against entering in the first place!"

"Have I told you how much I love your mother?"

That little comment earned him an elbow to his gut and I chuckled at his _"Hmph!"_

Next, adjacent to the kitchen, we walked over to the garage dad had converted into a studio.

It was so strange seeing the half-finished painting sitting on the easel. Mom had been generous enough to donate a few of daddy's art pieces. I recognized his hand. The colors, the strokes of his brush...

"So this was it... your dad's studio." Maxon stated with a hint of awe and picked up a paint brush laying on a little side table although we weren't really supposed to touch a thing. But who would dare tell the King of Illéa that?!

I nodded. "And May's." I fought back the sting of tears. I could feel my dad alive in this space as if his heart still beat within these walls. "He loved painting. I wonder what he would be doing now?"

Maxon walked over to me pulling me gently into his arms. "Whatever would've made him happy."

I looked into Maxon's eyes and my heart flooded with love for this man. "I think you're right."

I lifted on my toes and gave him a kiss. "What was that for?"

"For having a moment."

We spent some time looking at and speaking about dad's paintings. I could imagine my dad and Maxon having lengthy conversations about lighting and hues. I couldn't help but grin.

"Now, this is where we'd sit around to watch the _Report,"_ I declared as we crossed into the living room. "Every Friday night at eight o'clock."

"Nice," Maxon smiled taking a seat in a replica of dad's chair. Unlike the paintings, my mother vehemently refused to part with dad's chair. The real chair sat in the living room of the new Singer house. "Cozy," he added, taking every detail in.

"I was right in this very spot," I said as I sat on the wood floor by the TV, "when my name was called for the Selection."

"Sweet!" Maxon beamed. I shook my head at his child-like enthusiasm. I supposed that finally getting an opportunity to fill in all those gaps in his mind brought him a clearer picture of me. I liked that. I wanted to know every detail about him from the day he was born so I gathered this was quite fitting. There was nothing in my life I didn't wish to share with Maxon.

"Come on!" I cried out, his enthusiasm rubbing off on me. "Let's go upstairs!

The stairs creaked their own little tune as we made our ascent to the second floor. We took a quick tour of mom and dad's room which was immediately to our right, then May's followed by Gerad's.

"And now for the "Pièce de résistance.. _.Tah Dah!_ My room." I flung the door open and moved aside gesturing in grand fashion for Maxon to enter. He wore that crooked grin once again. His eyes shone bright as he circled slowly in the middle of the room.

"So this is where my queen slept. In this room..." His eyes fell to the full-sized bed, "On this very bed."

I blushed. "See...I told you. Nothing spec..."

"Damn. That's hot."

I must've caught on fire, I was sure of it because I suddenly felt quite...heated. Maxon's form, his towering presence dressed in his tailored gray suit, white shirt and tie and spit shined, polished black shoes filled so much of the space that I found myself fighting for my next breath. The thoughts racing through my head conjured images, very inappropriate imagines which took me back to what we hadn't finished in the back of the limo. I guessed Maxon was right. Having sex in my old room with my pretend boyfriend was a pretty hot idea.

"So is that the famous treehouse I've heard so much about?" Maxon asked as he looked out the window breaking through my thoughts.

"Uhhh...treehouse...," I uttered, my face heated but thankful that Maxon had been too distracted to notice. "Yes! That's our little treehouse." I breathed trying to snuff out the fire lit in my core. I stood next to Maxon now.

"Let's go! What're we waiting on?!" Maxon's voice brimmed with excitement.

And just like that, I was being hauled this time behind Maxon as we ran down the hall, down the creaky steps and into our patch of a yard that didn't look so barren anymore right to the base of the treehouse.

It was late spring and with the balmier Carolina summer just around the corner the weather was nothing but perfect.

Shading our eyes from the midday sun, we looked heavenward through the leaves and branches up to the treehouse. The tree had grown a bit fuller with foliage framing the structure nestled in its branches. The entrance was basically a hole to climb through and had been left unobstructed from any overgrowth. It was still a cute little treehouse despite its aged looks.

"Will you do the honors?" Maxon bowed.

"It would be my pleasure." I curtsied.

We climbed up the slats nailed to the trunk.

"You have to climb inside," I warned Maxon looking down over my shoulder.

"Okay," he smiled and cast me a wink.

I shook my head feeling overly giddy. I couldn't wait for Maxon to see.

"Can I tell you how much I'm enjoying the view from down here?"

I gasped, realizing he could see right up my dress! "Stop that!" I scolded in a whisper, pausing on a slat. "We aren't alone!"

Though we were given our space, we still had security detail keeping watch over us while out of doors.

"Still enjoying it."

"You're so naughty. I swear."

I resumed up the next slats and had to hike up my dress a little to climb through the hole. Maxon whistled. As if I wasn't embarrassed enough before! I climbed in and soon Maxon crawled in right behind.

The treehouse was not much more than a five-by-five foot box with a small window but it had been the one place I could go to escape my reality.

"So this is the treehouse." Maxon adjusted his long legs to sit.

I folded my legs beneath me under my dress. "Welcome to my humble getaway." I gestured to the wood structure. Although visitors wouldn't be allowed access for liabilty reasons it had been swept and cleaned. The small step stool I had used as a makeshift desk was still there and so was that beat up threadbare rug. I smiled.

"It's a lot smaller than what I imagined."

"I know what you mean." I wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if I had grown any taller. I guess compared to my life at the palace where everything was bigger I supposed my perspective on things had changed. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"Hey, that's your bedroom window." Maxon pointed at it from where he sat.

"Yup."

"You climbed out of there?"

"Trust me, I know. It wasn't easy at first and I had the bruises to show for my adventures. But I perfected it eventually."

"Two years of practice no doubt," he grumbled. "And your parents had no clue?"

"I already told you. And besides, that was ages ago!" I chuckled at his obvious jealousy and kissed him. He seemed to relax once more.

I sat back looking at what once had been a haven and thankful in the same vein that these walls couldn't speak.

"I wish I would've had a treehouse growing up."

"It holds a lot of memories for us. Kota and I used to play in here. He would hang bedsheets to the branches and we'd pretend they were sails taking us on some far away adventure. He was the captain and I his first mate. Those were the good old days before he became a total ass."

Maxon chuckled. "There's always one in every family they say."

"I used to come here to read... to think...to escape." My eyes veered up to the ceiling. I closed them, inhaled the scent of the outdoors carried on a light breeze that swept in through the tiny window.

Maxon was watching me when I finally opened my eyes. He was smiling at me.

"What?" I blushed.

"You had some good memories here."

I shrugged and picked at the fringe of the old rug. "Not all," I confessed. "I remember the last time I was in here. It was the night Aspen broke up with me. I was shattered. As I cleaned up what was supposed to have been my great surprise, I wanted to tear each of these boards apart with my bare hands." So much of what Aspen and I were had been contained within these walls– our kisses, our stolen moments...our plans...each song he asked me to sing...they were all kept secret here. "I thought I hated it. But seeing it again..."

Maxon took my hand. "Come here." He patted the space between his opened legs and I settled there. "This place is a piece of you that I'd never want you to forget. Whatever happiness you had, whatever pained you it's been written here within these very walls. It played a hand in giving me the woman I hold in my arms at this very moment. And there's nothing about her that I'd choose to change."

I peered into Maxon's brown eyes as tears welled. I felt foolish for feeling so weepy.

Maxon brought his lips to mine in the lightest feather of a kiss. "Thank you, for sharing it with me, America."

My heart swelled with love and I wanted nothing more than to live in this moment for as long as I could hold on to it. I grinned at Maxon. "You know what?"

"What?"

"That was a moment."

He chuckled low in his throat. He traced the curve of my jaw with an achingly slow fingertip. "If that's the case, be it far from me to spoil it." He cupped my face is his large palm and I closed my eyes reveling his touch. His breath brushed against my mouth and his lips soon pressed against mine. The kiss was sensual and soft; the sort that made me forget where we were or what time of day it was.

"How about we make some new memories of our own to add to the treehouse?" He said wearing that smile that promised nothing but pleasure.

"You're not insinuating..."

He merely cocked a brow. "Why not?"

A living fire razed through me. I laughed nervously. "Right now? In the treehouse? Are you insane?" _He must've lost a few brain cells on the way up_ , the thinking part of me said but the part that found his suggestion deliciously enticing sang to me. And I was listening.

Maxon drew me in for another blistering kiss. My body went haywire, weakening my resistance and the voice of protest that had been so loud a second ago was now muted in some far off distance in the back of my lusting mind. I could keep my voice low...I could...

His mouth kissed up to my ear. My body so quick to respond sent signals of readiness to the place between my legs, the place now yearning for him. His lips kissed the curved edge of my ear and he whispered, "Let's make a baby, America."

I stiffened, startled by the words that rang like cymbals in my ear and clattered through every bone in my body. I pulled back just to see if he was messing with me. I surveyed his face. He was serious.

"W-whaat?"

"A baby, sweetheart."

My mouth hung open. I couldn't find the words. Having kids? It was due to happen...someday. But I certainly wasn't expecting to broach that subject. Not now. And in a treehouse of all places!

"First off," I said, keeping my voice low; too many ears on alert around us. "There will be no hanky-panky in here." I wasn't feeling very romantic after all. "Second, I'm still taking a tonic and lastly, I will not conceive the next prince or princess of Illéa in a...a treehouse, Maxon!"

He smiled and looked deeply into my eyes. Those warm pools of chocolate were a devastation.

"Stop it!" I whisper-scolded but like an idiot I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Maxon took my hand kissing each knucle and then turning my hand over kissed the pulse point of my wrist.

"Wherever it happens, America," his gaze now locked on to mine, "Our child will be conceived out of love. Our love."

His words were a whisper that had my spine tingling; his heated gaze one that burned with desire and I couldn't look away; the blaze of his passion awakening my body. My nipples tightened and my breasts suddenly felt heavy and aching for his touch .

My heart flipped as a sweet warmth spread through me. Maxon cuffed the back of my neck pulling me in and kissed me making the world tilt beneath me once again. His mouth on my mouth, his strong hands spread on my back burned right through the day dress I wore. The kiss deepened and I knew if I let it go further we might end up doing here what we started in the limo and what I had considered doing in my room and what I had just sworn we wouldn't.

"I live for the day when I know that my child grows here." His flat hand came to rest on my stomach where one day I would carry his baby.

"I know." My chest heaved with anxiety and yet his wish strangely warmed me. "I just need a little more time."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. We have time, sweetheart."

Did we? I kissed Maxon finding comfort in his arms as he wrapped them around me. The people were already looking for _"The Announcement"_. There was speculation buzzing around the arrival of the next heir to the throne. It was hard to ignore at times.

But right now I didn't care about any of it. There was only Maxon and there was only me. And that's the way I wanted it.

* * *

 _ **~ Maxon**_

I think I really unnerved America with talk of having a baby. It's not as if the topic hadn't been discussed. We both knew that aside from our duty of producing an heir we both wanted children. How many? We weren't certain but definitely more than one. Still, I could sense the pressure around us mounting yet, pressure was the last thing we were going to cave into. Whenever we got pregnant it would happen when we wished and not based on anyone's particular schedule.

The ribbon cutting ceremony for the opening of "The Singer House"– the new board approved designation for the house where my wife grew up would be first thing tomorrow morning at ten o'clock sharp. The opening of the museum would prove to be a grand affair with music and a reception to follow. Guided tours had been scheduled for the public and we would be on hand for the first hour for a meet and greet.

I wanted nothing more than to make America's farewell to her home be as memorable as I could make it. Tonight would be my first and last opportunity.

I left a note for America this morning on my pillow...

 **Dinner under the stars**  
 **Meet me in the treehouse**  
 **See you at Eight.**

 **Yours,**  
 _ **Maxon**_

There was much to plan if my idea was going to deliver so I made myself scarce for the day getting all the particulars in order for my dinner plans with America. This woman was the center of my life and making her happy was a promise I held close to my heart.

I arranged for a candlelit picnic dinner paired with her favorite wine, Madeira. A small bouquet of mini red roses filled a little round vase which served as the centerpiece on the blankets I had laid over the wooden floors of the treehouse. A few pillows surrounded the edge, added for comfort.

It was a clear, starry night. The full moon shone brightly filtering through the narrow gaps in the walls. The buttery glow of candle light helped bring a welcome softness to the rustic little space. Chirpping crickets and the stillness of night would serve as our dinner music.

"Not bad if I do say," I smiled looking about. "I think she'll love it."

I had given the driver and one security officer the duty to escort my wife to me and I waited inside the treehouse anxiously, like a schoolboy on his first date. Everything was in order, I checked for the hundreth time.

The sounds of footsteps caught my ear.

"Thank you," I heard America's soft voice say and my heart took off like a speeding bullet.

Leaning from the opening of the treehouse, "Come to me, darling," I whispered to her as I stretched a hand to grab hold of hers. Her smile alone sent a rush through me.

"I got your note this morning," she said by way of greeting as she climbed through the opening. "I've been excited all day!...Ohhh...Maxon!" She inhaled a breath, "I love what you've done to the place!" She took a moment to admire.

I shrugged. "It's a wonder what a little color can do to a space, huh?"

"This is so nice," she beamed. "I hope I dressed okay...I wasn't quite sure..."

"You look stunning."

Indeed she did. The little black dress was perfect for our date with a lovely yet elegant V cut that instantly made my mouth water.

We settled in and I set about opening the bottle of wine. I poured a glass and handed it to her then filled mine.

"To my lovely America," I toasted. "There's no place on this earth I'd rather be than here with you tonight and every night of my life."

"You put me at a loss for words," she blushed. "To my husband, who is the most incredible man I've ever met. And the only man I will forever love."

My heart did that little dance at her words and after clinking our glasses we leaned into each other and kissed.

We enjoyed dinner, more wine and the quiet of the evening as we talked and laughed and stopped to share sweet kisses.

"This was lovely Maxon," America sighed as we lay on the blankets, everything having been put away inside the picnic basket. She lay with her back pressed against my chest. My arm draped about her middle where she played with my fingers. I always loved when she did that.

"Here's to new memories," I whispered in her ear sweeping her hair off her shoulder as my lips landed on the pulse point of her neck.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, you know that." Another kiss.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready?"

America turned to face me. She rested her head on a bent arm over the pillow. "Ready...to be a father."

I ran a lock of her silken red between two fingers. Her eyes shone bright, awaiting my response. "I don't know if anyone is ever prepared, really. But I suppose once the baby is here it all falls into place."

"I'm scared."

"Yeah...me too."

We fell silent for the first time all evening. It was brief but impactful, both of us no doubt pondering parenthood.

"You'll be a wonderful father, I know it."

I smiled, "And you'll be loving, doting mother."

She blushed. "And..." she added, propping her head on her hand, "I think we'll make beautiful babies."

"Of course we will. I have a beautiful wife...and with my devastatingly, handsome, good looks..." I joked making her laugh.

Once our laughter quieted, I looked into America's eyes, her features now soft, her eyes falling to my mouth. "You are..."

"Come here." My tone was husky as I slipped a hand into her hair and pulled her mouth to mine. I moaned as the sweet taste of wine on her tongue swept over mine. The kiss deepened. America's fingers dug into my shoulder and a dainty bare foot ran up my calf under my pant leg. I groaned, already hard, my erection tenting the front of my trousers. I pulled her by her hips to straddle me as I shifted beneath her. Her dress hiked up her legs bunching high on her hips exposing her black, lacy panties.

Admiring the dark triangle between her legs I ached to touch her there but wanting to take things slower I ran my hands over her silken thighs to keep my hands busy. She was beautifully flushed from our kissing with big eyes, fully blown, dialated. Absolutely stunning.

I pulled her down for another kiss. Her hands framed my face as my lower half began to seek her heat. My hands curved around her bottom, barely covered by that scrap of lace. Our breaths labored. Hearing her moan when she purposely writhed over my erection...good God; I wasn't sure how much longer taking things slower was going to last before I snapped.

Breaking the kiss, our gazes locked. "I want to make love to you, America. Please." Fire as hot as the pits of hell burned in my belly; my body ached for her. Words right now lacked the intensity of what she made me feel. I needed to show her.

"Okay."

 _Thank God!_

We adjusted as I sat up. With America still straddling my lap I began a trail of kisses along the ridges of her collarbone. Exposing the length of her neck to me, I took advantage. The scent of her skin drugged me and I could begin to feel the tethers on my control slacken. She tugged on my shirt pulling it up, over my abs. It proved to be a welcome distraction. Soon my black polo disappeared and the warmth of America's hands fanned my bare chest. Excitement tore through my body but I reined it in.

Neither of us needed much encouragement and while passion hung heavy in the air about us, we settled into a calmer, not so rushed but exploratory love, taking time to savor each other.

After undoing the zipper on the back of her dress, America lifted her arms as I hauled it up over her head. With visceral appreciation, I greedily took in her body, so tight and so damn perfect, bathed in gold by candle light. Tracing the outline of her black lace bra where it hugged the swells of her breasts with my fingers I watched her cleavage rise and then fall. I couldn't hold back from kissing her, a little more demanding this time. She gave me what I wanted as the pads of her fingers teased my nipples. Damn.

Deftly unsnapping her bra with one hand, sliding my fingers under the straps at her shoulders and torturously stripping her bare, I sucked in a breath at the rounded mounds of her breasts. Gorgeous. Starting with a hand around her neck then running that same hand between the valley of those tantalizing globes, I scooped them both up, bringing them in direct contact with my mouth. I sucked on those hardened little points, pulling them taut between my teeth, running my tongue around the darker areolas. America's hand rested on the back of my head keeping me there where I knew she wanted me. This woman drove me to madness.

"Touch me, Maxon."

Her pelvis circled against my painful erection as she moved my hand between her legs. And damn was she ready. Her essence seeped through her panties unto my fingers. I pushed the fabric aside needing desperately to feel the source of her calling. And damn...delicious slickness, all for me coated my fingers as I slipped them between her folds. Her little, vocal responses to my touch made me smile. I was giving her this pleasure and she was all mine.

But I wanted more.

Taking firm hold of her, I flipped us over. She lay on the blankets in nothing more than her lacy bikini which in a blink I peeled off and threw over my shoulder making her laugh.

 _Maxon, you're one damn lucky man._

Yes, I was. I sat back on my haunches committing every centimeter of her body to memory like a work of art.

America ran her hands over her upper thighs waiting as I finished undressing and once I was as bare as she was...I joined her. Her arms welcomed me as I settled between her legs. Her hands roamed my back, down the middle of my spine, my sides and settled on my naked ass. She pulled me against her sex. The slick, gooeyness brushed the very tip of my aching penis and that was all I could take. Powerful thighs wrapped around my hips as I sunk into her sweltering heat. We moaned in unison.

I moved inside of her, feeling nothing but blissful joy.

"I love you, America."

"I love you too, Maxon."

This wasn't mere sex. I was making love to the woman who would honor me by carrying my children; the woman with whom I would join my seed to create something beautiful, out of pure, genuine love. Our creation. The thoughts alone made me harder.

My sensitive head rubbed along her walls of silk. As I pulled back from her sheath, the evidence of our union glistening over my cock, stirred the life giving essence in my balls...I fully thrust into her. Again. And again. Repeatedly. Every one of my thrusts was met with equal fervor by her hips. She was a living, breathing ball of fired lust in my arms that funneled all her passion to the one place where quaking tremors of ecstasy would at last collide in a boom so delightfully, mind numbing that every last part of us would lie boneless and sated.

Our bodies and souls moved, every touch, every kiss, every breath in complete surrender to the other as we made love, consumed by this emotion we shared, this bond so intense the universe couldn't compare in magnitude. It was undeniably magnificent.

America's back arched high off the blankets and I swallowed her cry feeling her climax around me.

 _Good God_ _!_

She trembled in my arms and I pulled her tighter against me as her walls contracted around me. Clutching her muscles around my engorged appendage, I growled, the urge for release too potent and there was no holding back as she took me with her. I burried my face into the side of her neck, my fingers digging into her back and hers into mine as my hot seed shot into her, one wave after another.

The thought that depositing my seed inside her womb would someday produce a child had increased the pleasure rumbling in my heavy balls. What a fucking rush.

Dizziness claimed me but my body hummed with unadulterated satisfaction. I rolled off from on top laying on my back, my smile as bright as the moon above.

America snuggled against me. I reached for a second blanket to cover us.

"That was very nice," she murmured kissing my damp chest.

"At your service, my queen," I panted after my explosive climax.

"Yes, you are."

"There's one valuable lesson I've learned about this fine little treehouse experience."

"Yeah? What's that?" She asked.

"I want to assure you of one thing, America. If we...if we have a daughter...she's never going to have a treehouse."

America's laughter boomed into the stillness of the night.

Yes, it was the sweetest song she could ever sing for me.

As we made love one more time, I knew this would be a night forever etched in our memories and whatever our future held in store it would remain a memory carved forever within the walls of my heart and of the little treehouse.

* * *

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	18. A Sweet Ass Valentine's Surprise

**Author's Notes:**

 **While Maxon and America's love knows no boundaries, the Royal bedroom hasn't proved quite enough to contain their carnal desires. But America has grown out of control.** **With Valentine's Day quickly approaching, Maxon struggles to find the perfect gift for America. One that will bring her** **to complete submission.**

 **This story has a slight but darker dom/submissive element.**

 **I'm no expert in this area guys but since many of you have asked for this type of story line, I'm obliging!**

 *****Although I tried not going overly OOC in content t **his** chapter skims a darker side of Maxerica intended to give those who requested this story line something they could enjoy. Granted, I understand this sort of story may not be for everyone but there are many who do like it so all I ask is that if it's not your thing, please respect the right of others to enjoy..**

 ** _WARNING!_**

 **THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE!**

 **For EROTIC sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"A Sweet Ass Valentine's Surprise"**_

 **"I'm going to give you what you _crave_**  
 **and**  
 **what I want."**

 **~ Michelle Gregory ~**

 _ **~ Maxon**_

Soccer practice – 3pm.

It's Wednesday. Soccer practice with Gerad's team was one of the important things I had listed on my agenda for today.

The other was getting America a gift for Valentine's Day.

I still hadn't found the right gift for America. Flowers and chocolates would be the typical, standard gifts but not good enough for my girl. Jewelry? Nice but boring. I needed something special, something that would thrill and excite her. Lingerie? Hmmm…now I'm thinking more about what I'd like. Nah… that's too predictable.

All of the above wouldn't cut it. I wanted to gift my wife something unique, something unexpected… something that would leave her all tongue-tied and speechless and with the mattress springing loudly at the end of the night. Those were the best kinds of gifts. But, so far I hadn't come up with anything remotely creative.

Well, I could give her a good ass spanking; that'd be creative. Damn! What am I thinking?! Valentine's Day is supposed to be about roses, moonlit dances and romance not kinky fantasies about spanking your wife's beautiful ass. Who am I kidding? It's exactly what I want to do. I can't stop thinking about it.

It had all started so innocently and for the life of me I can't figure out how things have gotten this out of control…

Her first spanking came that morning when she'd eaten my strawberry tart. I hadn't expected my playful threat to escalate into something so erotically pleasurable, but it had and the effect on both of us? I'll admit, to this day I'm still smiling at that memory. Then I'd spanked her little tushy red after she'd downed those shots of tequila and got drunk with her brother. She told me she'd been a naughty girl. And so she had. We ended up fucking on every surface of our bedroom. The following day, my poor sweetheart had awakened with a nasty hangover but insisted she needed to be spanked for her behavior. Who was I to argue? She got what she asked for... what she deserved.

Things only escalated from that point.

The following happened two weeks ago at her mother's house…

"Mom, I think you've made enough cupcakes to feed an entire army!" America observes wide-eyed as she squeezes the bag filled with yummy buttercream frosting over the top of a vanilla cupcake. "I'm going to have icing coming out of my ears!"

Magda smiles with pride at the kitchen table and counters. Every inch of available space was occupied with a cardboard box filled with her delicious cupcakes – chocolate, red velvet, snickerdoodle and of course, my favorite, vanilla with buttercream frosting.

"I _am_ feeding an army! Have you seen how much those boys and their fathers can eat?" She was referring to Gerad's soccer team. "Besides, Maxon's been an angel giving us a helping hand."

With a scowl America glares in my direction. "Helpful? If you count eating helpful!"

"Magda, when it comes to your homemade buttercream frosting, you know I can't resist!" I say in my defense as I dip a finger into the bowl like a mischievous child, nabbing a healthy glob of that heavenly icing while dodging the smack of my wife's hand.

"Oh you! America scolds. "Shoo, before I wallop you with my wooden spoon!"

I chuckle away as I suck my finger clean and attempt to dive in like a thief for a second helping.

"No double dipping or you'll be pulling back a nub, Maxon!"

"Leave him alone, America. I for one, love that Maxon loves my buttercream frosting the best!" Magda beams.

"No one does it better, Magda."

Magda chuckles giddily and squeezes my cheeks between her fingers. "I knew I loved you for a reason!"

America makes a gagging gesture behind her mother's back, her index finger pointed into her open mouth. Could I help it if I knew exactly how to butter her mom up? I possess the Schreave charm!

"And you be nice to him," she turns to her daughter, my wife, with her own pointed finger. "Let him have _whatever_ he wants."

I wiggle my brows at America. If looks were daggers though, I'd be a dead man. I could feel her seething inside from across the kitchen table.

"Oh, I _will_ , for sure." It wasn't a promise of pleasure but pain.

"Very good! Now…I'm going upstairs to shower and get ready. Kenna will meet us with the kids at the venue. So, once America finishes, Maxon," Magda directs her attention back to me, "Can you help us load the cupcakes into the car?"

"At your service, Madame." I bend at the waist with an exaggerated bow.

Magda flashes another wide grin. That reaction only earns me another scowl from my wife. Once alone, I knew I better make nice with my girl…quick.

I move to stand behind her, my hands on her hips. "You're sore at me." I observe.

"Go away. I'm busy."

Not one to be easily discouraged, I say in her ear, "Do you realize how hot you look standing here with this sexy apron, your hair up looking so...domesticated."

She snickers. "Yeah...okay, you silver tongued fox! Your charm may work its magic on my mother but I know your tricks. Now, go away. I told you, I'm busy."

I already have the strings of her apron untied. She's been too "busy" being angry with me to notice. And yes, my whispers were trickery, a slight of hand keeping her distracted. It worked. I begin sliding my fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. "Too busy for this?" I brush my mouth against her ear. Her breath hitches when I plant a feather of a kiss on her neck.

"Stop that!" She flinches. I smile.

"Why?" I nuzzle her neck. My hands resume their trek upwards, slowly, teasing her flesh stopping just below her rib cage.

"Because…"

"That's not a reason for me to stop."

Hissing at me, "We're in my mother's kitchen! Aaand because she could walk in at any moment!"

"I highly doubt that knowing how long it takes your mother to get ready for anything. And besides, so what if she did? It's not as if we're fucking…yet."

She gasps. "What has gotten into you lately?!"

"You. You stir my blood, darling. It's your fault, you know. You shouldn't tempt me like this."

"My fault?! How's…"

I interrupt. "Don't make excuses, America." I say in her ear. "One whiff of you is all it takes. You consume me." My hands cup her two breasts under her top, thankful for the lacy bra she's wearing. I'm expecting her to slap my hands away or protest. She doesn't. Her attention isn't on frosting cupcakes any longer but on my hands fondling her breasts. "I'm dying to toss you on this table and slather every inch of these," I pinch her nipples for emphasis, "with that buttercream icing."

"No!"

"Yes," I counter. Her "No" contradicts every signal her body emits. "Tell me you haven't thought about it? I know how your devious little mind works, darling." America has always had a thing with food and sex. I've found it sexy as hell. And as I proceed to touch her with my hands and lips I pray that I've done enough to trigger that naughty side that's currently resisting my beckoning.

Then, there's that change in her body I've become all too familiar with as it responds to mine. My grin widens. I don't waste a second to fan this fire. "I know you want to."

"Do you now?"

Ahhh…There's my little sex kitten. Her voice purrs with that sultry tone that makes me hard. And damn if she doesn't get me rock hard.

"I do. And after I watch you writhe in pleasure beneath me, I'm going to…"

"Spank me?"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" I grab her chin, turning her head to my mouth. "I'll save that for tonight. Right now, I have other plans…" I kiss her soundly turning her in my arms and on to the table. Easing her to lie back amidst the boxes of decorated cupcakes I kiss her, hungrier now, anticipation spiking in my blood, fueled by my wicked, salacious thoughts. Hooking her legs about my hips I rid her of the apron and lift her top over her breasts.

"Maxon! My mom…" The rational America begins to resurface as she tries to tug her top back down.

Hell. No.

"Did order you to give me _whatever_ I wanted."

"Ohhhh…" She quivers when I press my hardened manhood, grinding my stiffness against the softer juncture between her opened legs. "Yeeeess, she did," she keens falling back on to the table and off went her top.

I watch as the lacey, bra clad chest of the most beautiful woman in my kingdom rises and falls beneath quick, short breaths. I can feel the thundering beat of her heart under the gentle touch of my fingertips as I take the honors of freeing her pink dotted breasts from the cups of her lacey bra. I lick my lips.

"Fuck…" I breathe, rolling her nipples between my fingers. Damn. They are deliciously hard.

America watches in silence biting into her lower lip. I realize she does that to keep herself from moaning out loud. I can't help but suck that same bottom lip and feel her body melt as I squeeze her globes and pinch her nipples, soothing them afterwards with the pads of my thumbs.

Her eyes, flaming with need follow my every move as I take the bag of icing bringing it to her right breast. I squeeze and it oozes deliciously unto her flesh drawing its own erotic picture as I trace swirling patterns around her areola... decorate her to the tip of her hardened nipple.

"I can't believe we're doing this!" Comes her quiet cry.

"You bring out the W in wicked, sweetheart," I retort with an evil grin and happily repeat the action, icing her other breast. Having ever used an icing bag only once before, I was pretty proud of my decorating skills. She was perfection. Her perky breasts stood like two tantalizing towers under swirls of buttercream icing. Each, my own personal cupcake ready for me to bite into.

Sadly, I couldn't waste any more time admiring my handiwork. I had to get this show on the road in case my mother-in-law decided to turn up and ruin dessert... so I dive in, licking from the darker outer rim straight to the peak of a sensitive pebble. No icing on this planet tasted more delectable than the one I was currently licking off my wife's breasts.

"Tasty." She shivers and I groan as I devour her into my mouth, lifting a frosted breast to lap and feast on her like a damned starved animal. When I'd licked and sucked clean the first one, the other was prepped for my claiming.

"So much better than licking the bowl," I tease, pulling on her nipple lodged between my teeth.

"Or the spoon!" Her voice lilts in agreement. Her fingers dig into my hair and I fill my mouth with as much of her as I can.

"Delicious, baby," I say to her once I release her breast with a pop! Now, the call of a deeper hunger, one insistent and throbbing painfully between my legs requires sating.

I grab the bag of icing once again and draw a line.

My tongue snakes from her bellybutton up, up in-between that lovely valley of her mounds where I'd lined a ribbon of buttercream. A quarter sized dollop dots the hollow of her throat where my mouth lingers, my tongue scooping the sweetened delicacy. I suck that very spot for an added affect. And I'm not disappointed. I could see her pulse beat against her throat and she moans a little as I tenderly suckle on it.

"Shhhh," I order. "Don't want mom to catch us."

I pull back, leaving her panting, wanting. Her eyes tell me so.

"No!" She reaches for me, grabbing a handful of my shirt. Her eyes are two flames lit by lust, her breathing heavy fueled by wanton desire. "I need you inside me, Maxon."

Did she really think I was going someplace? In record time America's bent over her mother's kitchen table and her bare ass stares back at me. Something wild takes hold of my senses because I smack her right ass cheek hard. Watching my hand print bloom on her pale skin excites me. I do it again. And her little whimper sends bolts of lightning through me. I quickly undo my trousers and they fall to my ankles followed by my boxers. I'm breathing as hard as she is. My large hand cuffs her throat as I bring her arching back to my chest. America sucks in a breath and let's her head fall back on my shoulder. Submission. I'm set ablaze.

Lubing my cock head with her sweet nectar…damn, I stifle my own groan. I wish I had time to taste her! Later, I promise myself. But for now, pushing at her entrance so slick, so wet, I thrust forward, burying into her every inch of me until my pelvis tickles her ass. It's a fast, furious fuck the way I know she wants it right now. The way I crave it. I fix a tight hand on her hip, the other still wrapped around her throat and I'm pounding into her repeatedly, wantonly. Damn, I'm really hoping Magda can't hear us.

"Oh my god…yes, yes, harder." Her words brush my cheek, her back bows deeper against my chest which makes her ass push into my front. Shit. When her hand tenderly cups the side of my face, her touch is fire to my soul. I respond with gusto only seeking my queen's approval. "Ohhhh…god, yes! Yes! Just like that." America pants as I continue to fuck her. We're both totally lost in each other, so far gone that I don't think either one of us would've even noticed had Magda or anyone else walked into that kitchen.

"Ohhh! I'm coming, Maxon."

"Almost there, baby…almost…UUUUUHHHHHH!"

Yeah…crazy, huh? I unleashed one of the biggest loads of my life that day. Well, once we got home after the game she held me true to my earlier promise...to punish her, of course, for her being such a bad girl in the kitchen. She told me she was sorry and promised to behave in return as I swatted her sweet ass with an open hand.

She didn't.

Last week she fondled my cock under the table right in the middle of a meeting with my advisors! But, I'll save that story for another time.

Two days ago my lovely wife managed to tie me to bed. Yes, I woke up, both wrists secured against the bed post in straps of red silk while my wife greeted me with a 'Good Morning BJ' and proceeded to ride me cowgirl and reverse cowgirl style. Not that I'm complaining! My wife is the best!

But spanking her has become her reward. She acts out badly so I can punish her in return. I think that my lovely wife craves being a submissive. She needs to be controlled. And controlling America...well, that's up to me to figure out.

* * *

 _ **~ Back to the Present**_

I have a few hours before I meet up with Gerad's soccer team for practice. America, Marlee and Mary departed early for a girl's day out which no doubt involved lots of shopping, some pampering at America's favorite spa and endless mimosas which was fine by me. At least I'd have the opportunity to do a little shopping of my own for America's Valentine's gift. But I was still drawing a total blank as to what to get her. What do you get a woman that has pretty much everything?

Not that America would care, really. She wasn't like that. The simplest gifts were the ones she treasured the most but even simple wasn't conjuring any ideas and I was running out of time!

Frustrated, I walk down to the stables. Perhaps a bit of fresh air would inspire me somehow.

"Isn't she a beauty?" Harrison smiles, a huge grin is plastered across his face.

"Undeniably," I nod in agreement as we lean against the wooden corral watching the two-year old Palomino during her dressage drills. The animal is indeed a specimen of beauty as her golden coat shines, kissed by the morning rays of sunshine. I watch in awe as the rider sits comfortably on the saddle, holding the reins gently in hand but at the same time exercising her authority over her mount. Still, it's amazing to see the unity of rider and horse. They move as one...think as one being; unified in purpose...bonded souls.

"Do you think she'll be ready to compete? Sure would be nice to have another championship trophy to add to our stable," I add watching Harrison's knowledgeable gaze scrutinize each step, each move the golden palomino makes. Harrison, my valet and friend has always been a horse lover. He spends most, if not all of his free time in the stables. He knows every horse by name, their birthing dates, their pedigree and lineage.

"I believe so. She's impressed even me and you know I'm not too easily impressed," he quirks a gray eyebrow. To say that Harrison wasn't a stickler or more like a snob when it came to horse flesh would be an utter misjudgment of the man's expertise. When it came to horses the man knew his stuff.

"I can vouch for that," I jest.

Harrison harumps in response. "Training a horse or breaking a horse is no easy matter as you well know, Your Majesty."

"Touché!" I concede as memories of my first mount Gallahad come flooding back. I'm still shocked I have an ass or a face left after getting bucked off the stubborn stallion repeatedly. Harrison had tried warning me but being young and cocky...well, let's just say my pride took several hits that day.

"I've come to appreciate, Your Majesty, that a horse shares multiple similarities to a woman."

It takes a moment for his words to register. "What? Let me get this straight. You're comparing women to equines?" I can't help the bark of laughter that rips out of me. Harrison's brow furrows. He's clearly not amused.

"If Your Majesty will forgive me, I don't see what the humor in that is," he states matter-of-factly.

"Just, please don't let America hear you say that...ever. I don't think my wife would take well in being compared to a horse."

His gruff reply follows, "Well...I don't see it as an insult at all!"

I could swear the man was ready to pop a vein!

"You don't see how?"

"Certainly not. A horse is an exquisite and regal animal...built on strength and endurance and elegance! But if we _are_ speaking honestly as beautiful as these creatures are they are wild at heart. An untamed hellion resides in them all. Beautiful and stubborn as hell."

"Well, I can't very well argue with that."

"It's a much kinder comparison I think, than to what our gender is often likened which are to dogs and asses." He has a point, I relent. "Nevertheless, you must understand the mind of the horse, Your Majesty. What it needs to make it submit to your will." He turns his attention back to the palomino. I follow. "A gentle touch is always needed...encouragement, admiration, respect and at times a firmer hand. The horse will respond to each method but as a trainer it's up to you to understand and apply which tactic will get the desired result." He pauses. "Look at how exquisitely she moves."

"But women are so much more complicated," I think to myself but state it out loud.

Harrison chuckles. "That goes without saying, I fear. But, the principle is all the same."

I mull over Harrison's words as we walk back to the stables.

"Have you decided on what to gift Her Majesty?" He asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"I still have no clue."

"I had hoped your visit to the stables meant you've finally decided on a mount for Her Majesty. A fine horse would make a lovely gift if you don't mind me saying so."

I scratch my jaw. "America has been wanting to learn to ride. I suppose it would be a nice gift."

"A gentle mare, of course."

"Most definitely."

It is precisely at that exact moment I catch sight of the perfect gift. Harrison's words come back on replay, _'_ " _A gentle touch is always needed...encouragement, admiration, respect and at times a firmer hand."'_

And a wicked smile spreads across my face.

"You're favorable to the idea then?" He asks mistaking my expression because the thoughts running through my mind have little to do with a horse and everything to do with using that firm hand...on my wife but Harrison doesn't need to know that.

Am I favorable? Damn right I am because I'm a sick bastard and I want this. The thrill makes my body hum and my spine tingle. I feel a tightness in my trousers and my loins have decided that I must proceed with America's Valentine's Day surprise.

* * *

 _ **Valentine's** **Day ~**_ **M** **❤A**

"I loved her, Maxon! She's perfect!" America is still all smiles and plants another kiss to my lips. I'm all smiles myself, a pep in my step seeing just how affecfed she had been at my gift– a beautiful, rare chestnut Andalusian. Her hand had flown to her mouth agape in pure disbelief, her blue eyes sparkled, beaming in excitement and she fairly leaped into my arms, giddy with delight.

"A horse! Of my very own!"

"What will you name her?" We've made our way back to the palace after my big reveal and after spending several hours in the stables.

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I'll probably have to spend some time with her...to give her a proper name."

"Of course."

I push the door open to our bedroom as America crosses the threshold first. She spins around and takes hold of both of my hands pulling me further into the room.

"Now, since you've gifted me my gift it's only fair I gift you yours." The gap that had been there a second ago narrows to a sliver. She takes my hands, wraps them around her waist and now her breasts press against my chest and even that void is now gone. Her arms snake around my shoulders and when her soft lips press against mine, her kiss is anything but innocent. Our tongues meet deliciously as they sweep over and under. I groan. Pull her closer still.

"You won't be leaving this room for the rest of the day, Your Majesty," she says saucily against my mouth.

I smile as she tugs me to the bed. "Your gift requires you to strip naked as I watch," she bites her lower lip. As she goes to perch unto the bed, that's when she catches sight of the ornately decorated rectangular case resting on our bed. She looks temporarily stunned.

"What is this?" She looks at me then to the case and then back to me. I smile as I sit next to her and pull the case between us. I want to see her every expression.

"Just a little something extra I picked up especially for you, darling."

"But you already gave me a wonderful gift..."

"Can a man not gift his love more than one gift on Valentine's Day?" Her cheeks flush. "Go on. Open it."

She smiles. "Do you have any other surprises you wish to tell me about?" and then leans over and kisses me. Sitting back watching as her smile widens at my surprise she says, "Whatever it is...I can't imagine how you can top gifting me my very own horse!" Her smile continues beaming as she pops the snaps of the leather case.

This time I'm the one sinking my teeth into my lower lip. My eyes are fixed on her face as she slowly lifts the lid up and looks inside.

Her brows wrinkle in confusion. Her eyes lift to mine. "A riding crop? I don't understand. Harrison said I already have all of the equipment I'd need."

"You're mistaken, sweetheart." I reach into the red velvet lined case for the crop. I pick it up with my left, loop the strap around my right wrist.

"What? I'm..."

"This fine little gift isn't for your horse." My tone is soothing, dangerous. I slowly sweep the flat leather end across the ridge of her collarbone.

She sucks in a sharp breath as understanding instantly dawns on her.

"Yes, darling." I answer the hundred questions I see racing in her mind.

Her chest is heaving as I skim the leather across her throat and down over a breast. Her eyes close in a subtle surrender.

"You want this? Don't you?"

Her reply is near breathless. "I..."

"Say it."

"Yesss."

Goddammit! I look into her eyes when she flashes them in my direction and her pupils are blown out and it's sexy as hell.

"Only if you're a very good girl. Can you be a good girl, America?" I ask lightly tapping her left breast with the crop and her reaction intrigues me. Her front teeth bite down hard into her bottom lip as her fingers grip the sheets underneath.

"Answer me," I tap her other breast.

"YES! I can be a good girl."

"Good. Now, go to the bathroom. I've got something pretty I want to see you in. Go." I command with the slightest head tilt for her to move. She obeys instantly. Damn. Could it really be possible that I've finally discovered the trick to control my wife?!

By the time America returns I've stripped down only to my black trousers and my cock bulges at the sight of her. The sheer black bra does nothing to conceal her pebbled nipples and the barely there scrap of material covering her front leaves nothing to the imagination.

She stands before me and I smell the mixture of vanilla and her sex. America reaches to touch me and I push her hands down using the rigid shaft of the crop. It's a psychological game– learning the mind of your conquest just as Harrison had earlier intimated. Hence, I keep the object of her desire in her line of sight and her eyes hungrily follow the crop as my hand falls to my side.

I raise my hand back up. Tuck the leather tip up under her chin. Guide her head to look up at me.

"I didn't tell you you could touch me."

Her nostrils flare at the scent of leather wafting between us.

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes fall away and I command for her to look at me. She does.

"You should be. But, I'm a fair man. Behave and I'll reward you, darling. This is your gift, after all." I give her a devil of a smile because today I am a devil. America has aroused this darker side of me that's clawing to get out. And I'm listening.

I begin to walk around her assessing her every curve, every inch of naked skin, my eyes stripping her bare. "Gorgeous," I say, running the crop over the length of her arm. The stimulus makes her break out into goosebumps. She stands there to her credit, silent...unmoving as if she knows what role to play. I sweep the leather across the small of her back as I pass making her shiver. "You're exquisite," I add. Admiration.

I brush my lips over the curve of her right shoulder, my gaze fixed on her profile. Her lips part and although I know this is about America I can't help the thought of what I'm dying to slip and plunge between those very lips.

We stand face to face once more. Her eyes shine with anticipation. I caress her cheek with the back of my hand, slide my fingers into her hair and fist her red locks in my hand. I tug her head back. She gasps but I don't allow a moment of recovery before my mouth is sealed over hers. My right hand wraps around her throat, the crop dangling between us but not forgotten. America returns my kiss with just as much fire.

"That's a very good girl." I bite her swollen bottom lip. Encouragement.

Stepping back and taking hold of the crop I slide it across her midriff and begin to circle her a second time around. I can feel the ripples of anticipation from her so much more now and I know she's wondering when the first swat is going to come. I stop to her left. She doesn't look at me. She has relinquished all control to me. And having control is what I want.

"You're so lovely, America," I tell her, skimming the crop's leather head along the sensual line of her spine, down over that feminine dip of her lower back and at last over the mounds of her perfectly rounded bottom.

"Look at that beautiful, sweet ass." Black lace trims her bottom doing little to cover her ivory cheeks as they pucker out. And as if on instinct my hand reaches back... _SWAT!_

The first strike lands. A swooshing sound cuts through the air and marks her on impact.

America whimpers. Her hands curl into two fists. She's trembling.

I feel the rush of adrenaline and arousal. I want to hear those sounds again.

 _SWAT!_ I land the second right smack on the middle of her other cheek. This time she lets out a louder whimper and it's hot as hell. Two rosy brands blossom on the ivory palette of her backside. I rub them not to soothe but to arouse and then squeeze her ass hard.

 _SWAT! ... SWAT!_

Her legs tremble furiously and I reach over her left hip to cup her sex. She's soaked.

"You want to come, baby?

She begins to writhe against my hand whimpering in desperation as she grabs hold of my forearm.

I pull it away. "Behave." I order.

"I'm sorry." She's trying to catch her next breath. "I'll be good... I'll be good."

I think my nuts are about to blow!

I scoff and move away and she remains rooted in her spot. Complete submission.

"Words. I need proof, America." I sit on the edge of the bed.

"Come here," I command. She obeys and stands between my legs. Her breasts are at eye level but It's the glistening dampness of her sex that holds my interest. "Look how wet you are. You're a naughty girl, Mrs. Schreave."

"I ...I can be good ... I promise."

"Are you sure about that?"

I wedge the crop between her thighs. "Open your legs." Over her scrap of underwear, I graze her moist second lips with the crop back and forth as I say, "This and every part of you America, belongs to me. Do you understand? And I take what is mine."

I slip the crop from my wrist and toss it on the bed. Her scent makes my cock pulse with need. I run my thumb along her slippery channel. "You feel just right, baby." I press my thumb up against her clit and filling my ears with the sounds of her pleasure as I circle her little trigger button... I snap and begin devouring her right through her panty. America cries out on contact and I groan against her core just about as loud as the taste of her arousal trapped in the sheer fabric fills my mouth. But it's not enough. I push the seat of her panty to one side and invade her folds with my snaking tongue and then finding her clit, I latch on to it.

I drag her panties off her body and resume feasting without hindrance. I tease her clit with my teeth, pulling and drawing it between my lips. I spread those pretty nether lips with two fingers spearing her pussy with my tongue. I feel greedy and so I take and keep taking. Fuck. She's dripping down her inner thighs and easily, I slip two fingers inside her and reclaim her clit.

America's riding my mouth, my fingers. I feel her walls tighten around my digits and as her walls contract, the delicious spasms wrecking her body make her cry out my name at the top of her voice.

Damn. I love hearing it fall from her lips in pure worship like that.

I clamp both hands on her ass to keep her steady, my face buried between her legs. At last, that violent tempest breaks her and she spills copiously into my mouth.

Her body sags, all tension obliterated. I pull her unto the bed over me and those rock hardened nipples straining against the sheer fabric of her bra and begging to be abused stare back at me. I suck and nip and pinch each one straight through the material. And fuck if that doesn't get my dick as hard as granite.

Sliding from under I straddle her hips. That sweet ass blushes back at me. I drape her body with mine. She moans as my kisses assault her neck, the side of her face and her mouth.

"What are you doing to me, America?"

She's freeing you! She's giving you what you want! Control.

When I'd reached for the crop, I don't know but it's power in my hand feeds that other side of me.

I push off the bed, stand. My legs are an inverted V straddling her thighs.

 _SWAT!... SWAT!... SWAT!_

There's a mix of whimpers and yelps that follow each swat. "Pleeease!" She pleads in a strangled cry .

Before I can stop myself several more strikes bite into her bottom. America's cries her pleasure into the mattress as her fingers knot into the bedsheets. I caress her red blossoms soothingly with the crop.

The thunderous tremors in her body vibrate against my inner thighs. Good God! She's ready to come again.

I toss the crop aside and unfasten my trousers. Kick them off. My boxers follow suit.

I climb on the bed, mounting her. There's a need inside to soothe her, caress her bottom so I do, gently with open hands. But there's an even greater urge to fuck so I rub my cock against the line splitting her ass cheeks all the while admiring the sight of my handiwork.

My knees part her legs and we both voice our delight when I moisten my sensative head along her magnificently wet pussy. And when I nudge at her opening, thrust inside her, enter paradise, I curse out loud.

The mattress springs violently as I plunder America's velvet sheath. She bows her back and turns her head to couple my mouth. And it's savage and wild and every damn thing I want.

America takes every inch, every hard inch of me over and over absorbing my power into her body. She is mine. This beautiful, amazing woman is all mine. And as I claim her body, her mind, her soul she submits them willingly all to me because I am now her Master.

I ride my beautiful submissive wife until our bodies glisten with sweat and the smell of sex cocoons us in ecstasy. And as her climax rips her apart I hold her to me giving her this moment before my hips begin to drive again and I bury myself repeatedly within those glorious walls of silk. My balls tighten and I join her spilling my seed deep inside her because I wish it and because I can and most importantly because she's _MINE_.

An hour later we're still in bed a mass of tangled limbs and satiated bodies. America's soft laughter makes my heart flip as I whisper in her ear how much fun I've had.

"Thank you for my gift. I loved it." America plants a kiss between my pecs.

"Good. And I'll be happy to reward you, darling. When you're a good girl, that is." I kiss her forehead.

She looks at me, so docile and yet her eyes are pools of dark desire. "I want to be a good girl."

"I know you do," I tell her brushing my thumb along her jaw. "But we'll see. Your training has only begun."

"I'll do anything for you."

A wicked smile spreads across my face.

"Oh, my darling, you have no idea."

* * *

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	19. His Due Reward

**Author's Notes:**

 **America made a wager and lost. Maxon as the winner deserves his reward but America hasn't made good on the bet. What is holding her back and will she be bold enough to finally pay up?**

 **This Bedtime Story is a continuation to "Broken Rules".**

 **I'm dedicating this story to every single reviewer who kept asking for this!**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For EXTREMELY EROTIC sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been** **WARNED** **! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"His Due Reward"**_

 _ **~ America's bedroom...**_

"Did you bring it?" I nearly ambush Marlee as she steps through my bedroom door.

"Yes. I have it."

Not risking the chance of anyone barging in on us, I turn the lock on my door shutting us safely inside.

My heart is pounding wildly in my chest as I cross the narrow distance to my bed where Marlee now sits. A package wrapped in plain brown paper rests on her lap.

My nerves thrum with excitement as my eyes zero in on the object hidden behind the non-descript paper wrapping. I sit down next to Marlee, excitement vibrating through my bones.

"You know you're my best friend, right?" Marlee says, looking at me, holding the small package in her hands.

I know her question isn't really a question but more a declaration of our bond. We are as close as flesh and blood sisters could ever be.

"Of course! That's why you're helping me." I state with no doubt, looking her straight in the eyes.

Marlee grips the package in her fingers. "This is top secret BFF stuff. Promise you will guard it with your life."

I roll my eyes. I know what she's holding. We've been talking about it for the past two days. "Marlee, it's a book!" I smirk wryly. A book I've been salivating to read.

"No. It's not," she frowns. "It's the key to help you with your... _issue_."

I feel heat flash up my neck, all the way up to my face. Why did the room suddenly feel stifling hot now? "It's...not an... _issue_." I retort knowing, yes it was an issue.

"You said you couldn't bring yourself to do it so yes...it is an _issue,"_ she emphasizes that last word. "And besides you're the one that asked for help. I'm just trying to do right by my best friend."

"I know." My shoulders sag sheepishly. "Thank you." I sigh feeling self-conscious about what my issue was.

I had confided in Marlee about the bet I'd lost to Maxon and what he required as payment. I had foolishly agreed to the wager, of course, feeling overconfident that I would be the victor. Maxon pulled out an ace and now I was in his debt. My arrogant little ass had learned a very good lesson– not to count my chickens before they hatched!

Well, there was nothing I could do about it now. After all, I had lost fair and square. And according to Maxon's terms I had three weeks to make good on my word. Initially, I was confident I wouldn't have a problem fulfilling my part, but as the days passed I wasn't quite sure I could go through with it. Now, I was desperate and running out of time. If I didn't pay up Maxon said I'd forfeit all of my goodnight kisses for two entire months! Oh, the fiend! But I couldn't have that! No way! I lived for my goodnight kisses!

"Look. I know you're nervous and unsure about it but trust me on this," Marlee says. "Once you do it I think you'll like it. I was really nervous my first time. I mean, what if I couldn't bring Carter to completion? I would be mortified. Nothing was more important to me than to please him. But with good technique there's always success."

"Technique is not my issue, Marlee! Don't you think it's...lewd?"

"Lewd?" Marlee laughs a little and my face gets even redder. "Hardly! Thrilling, more like it."

"I'm not sure _thrilling_ would be my word of choice," I respond a bit defensively. "I mean don't you feel a little...I don't know...humiliated afterwards?"

This time she laughs out loud. "Absolutely not!" She runs a delicate hand over the book. "You're thinking about it all wrong, America. You have to think about this provocatively."

My brow knits. "What do you mean?"

"It's one of the most intimate things you can do with the man you love and you do love Maxon don't you?"

"What kind of a question is that?!"

"My point exact! It's not something dirty and it's certainly more than servicing your husband."

I stare at Marlee, puzzled which makes her suck her teeth.

"America, this is what intimacy at its barest nature is about. It's trust between two people. A transferring of energy between lovers and beyond that it's the knowledge that you're the one in control. The inevitability that he will lose himself because you've pushed him over the edge... that you've made _him_ lose his mind. You own him at that moment," she says, eyes full of fire "and the storm of exhilaration rippling your own body, feeding the raw power you hold over this strong, masculine man making him crumble as you watch him fall apart in your hands..." Marlee lets out a knowing sigh one that hints I've been missing out on a wondrous experience.

"The sheer knowledge in his eyes when he looks at you and helpless, realizes you are his Mistress and that _you_ , you alone hold the reins of his pleasure. You wield your power to make him submit to you and when he does..." Marlee exhales a slow, measured sigh.

My heart is racing, beating a staccato beat on her every word. I let out a shaky breath.

"Do you understand now?" she asks.

"Yes, I think I do," I nod. Her reasoning made perfect sense! It was as if dark clouds had finally parted, letting rays of light shine through. I would be in control. The power lay in my hands...and mouth.

Maxon wanted the one thing I had never allowed him to do. As great and mind-blowing as sex with him had always been I had never allowed him to come anywhere above my chest...well, not on purpose anyway. Every other surface of my body was game– on my ass, my back, stomach, breasts but not my face and definitely not in my mouth.

I had always believed that such an act was the ultimate form of submission. A woman kneeling before her lover's cock, his masculine body towering over her as she waited for him to brand her with stripes of his pearly seed. Or even worse, a woman waiting with an open mouth, a hungering little whore waiting to be filled with the thick, white cream that churned in her lover's balls ready for delivery.

It's not as if I hadn't tasted Maxon's cum before. I had on several occasions, a smear on a finger or two but never a mouthful. And Maxon always delivered a very sizeable load. I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it all.

 _"I want to come in your mouth...and I want to see you swallow every drop, America."_

Maxon's salacious request to my surprise also churned something wicked in me. I could've sworn my clit jumped at his words and made every nerve in my body spark. The wanton look in his eyes heated me, made me want to explore it. I was confident I could do it at the time but battling my rationale proved harder than I imagined. As much as the act intrigued me, I wasn't sure I could go there.

"Read the book. It will open your eyes to a whole new world."

I take the book as she hands it to me. Maxon and I were quite aware of authors of these erotic novels. Their stories were in high demand but in order to keep their anonymity authors sold their works underground. Even though Illéan citizens now have greater access to different forms of literature, novels as the one I hold in my possession were tightly restricted in particular to keep them out of the hands of those under age.

"There really isn't much you can't get your hands on if you know the right people," Marlee had told me when she procured her first erotic novel. Now several books later I found myself a party to what she termed her _'guilty pleasure'_.

I would be a liar if I said I wasn't more than a little curious. And if Marlee was confident that this book would help rid me of my inhibitions then why not give it a try? I still had a debt to pay.

That evening, I stare at Maxon's perfectly naked body as he sleeps. He's lying on his stomach, one hand tucked under the pillow the other hangs off the edge of the mattress. My eyes soften and my heart wrenches at the scars on his back; an awful reminder of his past. I have always sought to take away that pain, to make him forget.

That thought alone makes me want to do anything, anything for Maxon. He had been so patient with me, never asking when I was going to make good on that bet. I was hoping he would never cash it in but I didn't want to be a welcher either. I was a woman of my word and it was about time I paid up.

* * *

 _ **~The following day...**_

Dressed in a pair of jeans and comfy pink top, I sit in my favorite plush chair, feet tucked beneath me in the seclusion of the Royal library. No one ever came up here. It was the perfect hideaway from the prying eyes and constant disturbances I was bound to have in the Women's Room. But here in this quiet solitude, surrounded by nothing but shelves and shelves of old books and the familiar sound of the rustling page of the novel in my lap, I could relax. I could concentrate. I settle in, diving into the story. I had started the book late last night after Maxon fell asleep and damn was it everything Marlee had promised!

My eyes are glued to every word lining the pages before me, my heart beating a little faster as I read...

 _"Do you have any idea how many times I've imagined doing this to you?" I gripped the length more firmly, wrapping both hands around his wide base, the skin smooth and hot beneath my fingers, against my palm. "You're big, Eli. Bigger than any man I've seen."_

 _He moaned and shook his head. "Don't." He pressed his hands against the shelf behind him. "Don't tell me about anyone else, I can't...just don't."_

Oh God.

 _I kissed the fat, swollen tip. "It's just you and me." I darted my tongue out, tasting him once more. "No one else." I started to jack that impressive cock with both hands, then leaned in and sucked the head deep into my mouth, taking him as far as I could. He shouted, both hands hitting the bookshelf on either side of him hard enough to make the windows rattle. Releasing him with one hand, I dragged my nails up the side of his massive thigh, then reached around and gripped one muscular ass cheek and squeezed. Pulling back, I put my tongue to good use, licking him from root to tip, lapping the ridge, getting off on his harsh breaths echoing around the room, his seductive scent getting stronger, the way his eyes were locked on what I was doing to him. I kept at it until his abs looked cut from stone and his thigh muscles were jumping._

 _He bucked, a desperate sound ripping from his throat. "Darlin'...Darlin', please. I can't take much more."_

 _Christ, the sound of his voice, the way he'd called me darlin', I was close to coming again and I hadn't_ _even touched my swollen clit._

 _Tilting my head back, I looked up at him as I reached for one of his hands, prying it off the shelf and placing it at the back of my head. I sucked him deep, and his fingers immediately burrowed into my hair, holding on. I sucked harder, and his low groan seemed to shake the ground beneath me._

 _"Shit," he barked and tried to pull back. "Gonna come..."_

 _I stayed where I was, then he was coming, shaking and growling, hips jerking as he pumped hot and hard down my throat. I stayed where I was until he was finished, then I took my time licking him clean. When I was done, I rose to my feet and did what I'd been dying to do for the longest time. I reached up and cupped the side of his face, dragging my thumb across his stubbled jaw, feeling the texture against my skin. "You're magnificent, Eli Hays." Then, going up on my toes, pulling him down to meet me, I placed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and stepped back._ __**(Excerpt from "Breaking Him" by Sherilee Gray)**

"Holy shit!" I whisper-cried. I read it again. I couldn't help myself!

After the third, I stare at the words on the page letting the imagery sink in. Could I do that? Could I break Maxon in such a way? My heart thundered at the prospect. I didn't realize how heavy I was breathing and how tightly my legs were crossed! I quivered. There was a storm brewing in my core. I could imagine how I would take him... what I would do... how he would react. Would he shout like Eli? Would his body tremble in reverie? Suddenly, the thought of Maxon's seed fresh and hot in my mouth began having a rather lascivious appeal.

"There you are sweetheart!"

Maxon's voice startles me and the book drops with a heavy thud on the wooden floor. Having been so deep in my thoughts I hadn't heard the door open...not that I had been expecting anyone to find me! I frown inwardly. Maxon, of course would be the only person who'd think of looking for me here. He had afterall shared this secret place with me.

Maxon and I reach for the book at the same time as he asks, "Sorry, darling. Didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

I flush at his use of the word _'darling',_ my mind vividly conjuring up the scene I had just read in the book.

"Oh! It's alright." I say in a squeaky voice that doesn't sound anything like me as I pluck the book from his hands.

There's a flicker of confusion on Maxon's face that's quickly replaced with a smile. He takes a seat on the arm of the chair I'm sitting in, his body hovering over mine. He rests a hand on the high back of the chair, leaning slightly into me and my stomach flutters because the scene in the book is doing a replay in my head all over again. Inadvertently I glance at Maxon's penis and feel my face heat. Did I look guilty? I must. My eyes widen at the suggestive mischief in his own eyes when I look up finding him staring at me.

 _'Please don't ask what I was reading.'_ I silently will.

"What were you reading?" he asks.

Damn.

"Uhhh..." I swallow the giant knot in my throat, setting the book aside, face down on the nesting table...out of his reach. "Nothing...interesting, really." Ugh! I'm such a horrible liar!

Maxon glances at the book. Sees clearly through me. He arches a brow. "You looked quite interested to me." He leans in to whisper, "Anything you'd like to share?" And my body thrills at his nearness, at his scent and every naughty thought in my mind of sinking to my knees and stuffing my mouth full of Maxon is like a fuse set to fire and ready for take off!

Reaching for any sort of composure against my rebellious body and my dirty thoughts, "Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting until noon?" I ask in an attempt to divert the conversation.

"Yes..and it is now half an hour past noon," he informs looking at his watch. "You were supposed to join me for lunch, remember?"

My hand flies to my mouth as I gasp. "I'm sorry. I guess I lost track..."

"I completely understand especially when such an uninteresting book can make you lose track of time," he teases as he wheedles his way into my chair and settles me on his lap. "Now..." He's smiling at me. "How can you make this up to me?"

"It's not too late for lunch," I suggest.

He gives a thoughtful expression. "I am rather famished..." Maxon eyes shamelessly trail over my body. He takes hold of my waist, turning my body so I'm now straddling his hips. His eyes darken telling me without words it isn't food he has his mind set on consuming.

"Ohhh..."

We stare for a moment at each other silently appraising the tension growing thick between us. His hands are on my hips. Squeeze. My body heat is spiking and images are running wild in my head and I'm so prepped to be fucked I can barely stand it!

Maxon's eyes fall to my lips.

A whimper escapes me when suddenly his mouth is on my neck branding me with his wicked kisses. I let my head fall back in a moment of pure weakness feeling his tongue dart out to tease the dip of my collarbone and glide up my throat. I sigh with excitement at the contact of his tongue on my skin. My body ignites.

I bend my head down as he lifts his and our lips meet and the kiss is anything that belies innocence. It is deep and hot. My fingers grab fistfuls of Maxon's hair. His hands curve around my bottom and I press my rounded cheeks into his palms, undulating, wanting more of his touch. I whimper in excitement as my need for him escalates. He can sense my fever responding with a growl and I recognize the sound. Deep, ravenous hunger. I'm elated.

His warm hands crawl up under my pink top, snaking up to my expanding rib cage as I feebly attempt to control my breathing.

His voice commands, "I want you. Now." The possessive tone of his words makes me heady and when he pushes my top over my bra exposing my heaving chest, I feel helpless at his touch. My body his to do with as he wishes.

Maxon cups my breasts, curving his fingers over the mounds covered by my white lacey bra. I feel his control fraying as he buries his face in my cleavage, licking the swells of my breasts with his hot tongue. He puffs an impatient breath as he rubs his lips across the fabric in search of a nipple.

His body tells me he wants it fast, dirty and hot. So do I.

Before I can think, he stands, lifting me along with him and finds the nearest flat surface to set me on.

"Maxon..." I say in a breathless whisper when he wedges his hips between my legs and grabs my hips yanking me flush against him...and I feel how hard he is. Rock. Solid.

"Goddammit you're so sexy," he tells me, making me quake.

With his left hand possessively on my hip, his right kneading my swollen breast he pulls the cup of my bra down not so gently and the feel of my nipple between his teeth sends me pitching forward.

"Ohhh...my...god..." I keen with my hand on the back of his head, begging for that black magic mixture of pleasure and pain.

Maxon gives me what I'm asking for as if he already knows it before I think it. He bites down just enough to send that shot of white fire to my womanly part, the one his burgeoning member is seeking for invasion. I whimper a little louder as he pulls my nipple taut and releases it. He then rubs my ravaged little nub between the pads of his fingers sending an entire new sort of need to my seeping pussy.

"You like that?" He asks with such intensity it makes my belly twirl magnificently.

"Yes."

"Want more?"

"Yesss!" I cry and he doesn't waste a second taking my sensitive pink nipple, now a little redder between his teeth. The feeling is glorious as he rakes his teeth on me. I moan at the assault.

A terrifying thought suddenly strikes me. The last time we allowed our desires to get the better of us in a public place, Aspen had walked in on us. But, I want this...want it now. I want Maxon deep and hard. So to hell with it. I swat the memory away. No one will track us up here.

Maxon's feasting on both my nipples now as I writhe against him. He feels like a raging bull, the muscles beneath his suit jacket like chiseled stone ready to cause serious damage and I am his target. There would be no stopping him now.

Another thought. Should I tell him I was ready to make good on our wager? But here? In the Royal library?

Before I could think it through I say, "I'm ready, Maxon."

"I'm ready too, baby." He smiles wicked grinding his steeled cock against me then buries his face in my neck.

"No. I mean... the wager. I'm ready to give you what you want."

Maxon's body stills. He's looking at me in expectation and disbelief?

"You are?"

I nod, biting my bottom lip.

His eyes spark. "Fuck, yes..." he hisses and captures my mouth in another sweltering kiss that curls my toes and makes me want to get on my knees and get to work.

I fumble with the buckle on his belt...the zipper...untuck his dress shirt.

 _Bzzzz...Bzzzz..._

"Ignore it."

 _Bzzzz...Bzzzz..._

"Okay," he pants against my mouth as my hand slips into his trousers. I gasp at his hardness. Maxon swallows it and in response moans at the touch of my fingers on his thick shaft against the material of his boxers.

 _Bzzzz...Bzzzz..._

 _Bzzzz...Bzzzz..._

His damn cell won't quit! He pulls it from inside his jacket pocket; looks at the screen and grunts. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have to take this."

He moves away before I can protest him answering the call.

"Yes." His tone is clipped, annoyed at the caller.

He pauses.

"What?! They can't do that! We have an agreement!" He props the cell between his ear and shoulder and begins tucking in his shirt and zipping his pants back up.

"So much for lunch," I murmur and sigh.

I slide from the desk and begin fixing myself as Maxon listens to the caller. His brow knits with a look of pained regret as I pull my top back down. He mouths, "I'm sorry" and then replies to the caller, "Alright. I'm on my way."

He ends the call and looks over at me with the most apologetic look.

"It's okay," I assure him.

I sadly watch him buckle his belt and run a hand through his mussed hair. Before he turns to leave our interrupted tryst behind he pulls me in his arms kissing me with unfulfilled need. I hear myself whimpering again, clutching his broad shoulders. I don't want him to go but even if I were to voice it I know he would have to. Especially with a seeming fire in need of his attention. Unfortunately the fire wasn't me.

Maxon pierces me with a burning gaze. He sweeps his lips over my swollen mouth, says, "I'm looking forward to my reward." My heart slams as his words brush my mouth. And he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth marking me, reminding me what I owe.

My legs feel like jello as I watch him go.

* * *

 **I get on my knees,**  
 **Aiming to please,**  
 **Look in your eye,**  
 **And zip down your fly.**

 **I throw you a smile,**  
 **Show you my style,**  
 **Your cock I take out,**  
 **And open my mouth.**

 **I feel like a glutton,**  
 **I over indulge,**  
 **Pull back my head,**  
 **I wait to get fed.**

 **I close my eyes,**  
 **and get a surprise,**  
 **My mouth it fills up,**  
 **When will it stop!**

 **Time for a treat,**  
 **Something to eat,**  
 **Your cum I ingest,**  
 **Get some on my breast.**

 **Finished my work,**  
 **I give you a smirk,**  
 **You say I'm the best,**  
 **Now you're obsessed**

~Anne-Marie Rose~

 _ **~ America's bedroom...**_

I pass the silver backed hairbrush over my loose red locks one last time before setting it on the top of the vanity. I arrange the tresses about my shoulders just so. My hair touches the tips of my breasts. I like the way that looks as I survey my reflection in the mirror.

Gliding the velvety tip on the end of the lip gloss wand, his favorite, across my lips, I know he's in our bedroom waiting for me. Anticipating my entrance. Wondering how much longer he must wait. And I love the torture. I know I shouldn't but I do. Because I am in control.

I smack my lips and allow myself a wicked smile. _'Damn...I look great_ ,' I muse.

Satisfied, I stand from the chair, my naked body stares back at me. I feel sexy. I feel hot. My nipples are already hard and still I pinch them a little to make them stand out even more.

The need between my legs reverberates through my body. But tonight isn't about me. Tonight it's about Maxon and I must make certain he enjoys his reward. Marlee's novel has done a 180 on my prudish thoughts plus given me the boost of confidence I lacked.

Pulling the door open I enter and see the immediate reaction on Maxon's face. He's surprised. It strokes my ego.

He stands in the middle of the room clad only in a white towel wrapped about his waist as I had instructed him to do. God, he's gorgeous. My eyes are drawn instantly to the deep V cut framing his hips, following the lines as they disappear beneath the towel. I fight the urge to bite my lip. He is already very much aroused, I can tell as I come closer. I lift my eyes back to his and keep them glued there. Energy crackles around us. Between us. It's touching every inch of my naked skin as well as other more intimate places.

My bare feet take silent steps to him and with each one the tension only gets tighter like the string on a bow.

I don't regret now the earlier interruption in the library. Here in our bedroom I am free of boundaries. Here I will make him shout my name as I break him.

"Hi," I greet with a seductive whisper standing so close to him the tips of my breasts skim his muscled chest.

"Hi," his reply follows a heavy swallow.

We stare into each other. Our breaths are one, mingling one to the other.

My lips part into a smile. I love what I see in his eyes. His desire for me is a live wire ready to take my breath away. But tonight it is to my will he will succumb. Because I am his mistress. Because I am his queen.

My eyes drift to his lips but instead of a kiss I brush my parted mouth from the corner of his mouth across the line of his jaw, the tip of my nose ghosting up to that sensitive spot behind his ear. Maxon lets out a ragged breath. I feel his muscles react under the tips on my nipples.

"Are you ready?" I whisper. My tongue lightly brushes the shell of his ear. He reacts with an involuntary shiver.

"Yes," he whispers.

I run my index finger down his jaw...over his supple lips and smile. "We'll see."

Although I sound confident I'm scared as hell. I've mentality prepared for this moment. Using my skills at seduction and the game plan I've deviced on to help allay my nerves I remind myself, _'You're in control, America. Just like Eli's lover in that novel.'_

I coax Maxon into a kiss which he readily gives me. God does this man know how to kiss! His hands cradle my face but I gentle them back down to his sides .

"Keep them here," I tell him softly.

He doesn't question me and that makes me hot. Dampness pools between my legs.

I kiss him again, not hard– soft, teasingly, tenderly. He moans at our tongue play.

My kisses drift to his neck and he rolls his head back. I breathe him as I trail more kisses across his collarbone. His hands are on my hips and once again I gentle them down. I slowly shake my head mouthing the word, No. I can see it pains him not being able to touch me but I want every one of his senses focused in on my touch, my kisses, my breaths.

Peppering slow kisses across the expanse of his muscled pecs from one dark nipple to the other, I loosen the towel about his waist. It falls in a heap at our feet. He is fully aroused. I smile knowing this right here is all mine. What a lucky girl.

A shaky breath escapes him once I wrap my fingers around his impressive cock. Excitement, like waves roll through him. I feel it in my hand when his manhood jerks. I suck in a breath of my own as his rigid member pushes into my hand. God, he's big.

The slight nudge of his hips into my hand reminds me I cannot relinquish control. Capturing his eyes, overwrought with lust I lick my fingers. His head falls back with a groan when I sheath his length in my moist hand. I nip his neck softly with my teeth meanwhile my thumb spreads his precum over his crowned tip. I begin with long strokes on his hot flesh– up and down to the base loving the sensation of this piece of him in my hand...and the look of surrender draped on his face.

I continue with the hand job suckling his nipples at the same time. His body is coiled tight and I can feel the desperation in his muscles yearning for release.

A series of short breaths bursts from him when I cease my ministrations.

"Shit..." he chuckles raking both hands through his hair. "You're killing me, baby."

I don an unrepentant grin. "But we haven't gotten to the best part yet."

And before another word is uttered my lips burn another trail of kisses– lower over his rib cage, zig-zagging the rippling ridged muscles of his abs until I'm on my knees and his gorgeously stiff cock is right in my face.

I fold the towel at his feet to cushion my knees then turning my attention to the piece of manhood before my eyes, I kiss across his pelvis inhaling the scent of his masculine sex deep into my lungs. It excites me as I bury my lips in the cushion of light colored curls.

This is mine to command, this manhood grazing my chin, the cock whose tip presses against the dip of my collarbone. The contrast of velvet smoothness and rigid muscle makes my mouth water. I slide my hands up his body. Every cut of muscle exposed to my tender caress. The strength of his muscled thighs flex when my fingernails rake softly upwards and down. He's all man...all mine.

I pull my head back in admiration of what a wonderful work of art he is. At his masculine sex. The pink hue of his swollen head. The ridged edge of his crowned tip. The elongated shaft adorned with those wicked, angry veins and those delicate velvet orbs dangling beneath, begging to be fondled and suckled.

"Mmmm...so nice," I say, stroking him gently between my hands.

Maxon's abdominal muscles twitch when I brush my fingertips on his twin orbs.

"I love you," I tell him just before I wet my lips, open my mouth and lick him from base to tip.

"Fuck!"

* * *

 ** _~ Maxon_**

A curse rips from my throat the second America's tongue meets my sensitive head. She's deliberate, licking my tip, using that tongue to tease me and it's killing me as I watch her do it to me. All I want to do is sink my hands in her hair but refrain because she's asked me not to. I think I'm about to fucking die.

My head falls back and I can't help a chuckle of satisfaction at how good she's making me feel right now. And once her wet mouth takes me in and the suction of her pretty mouth grips me tight, further curses of praise rain down on her.

Damn.

When she first emerged into the room she would've knocked my socks off had I been wearing any. I was expecting her to come to me dressed in some skimpy, diaphanous little number readied to be shred to pieces but she absolutely left me breathless looking like the goddess she is in nothing but her bare ivory skin.

The moment I greedily took in her nude form– plump, full breasts half-hidden behind a curtain of red hair, her distended nipples clamouring for my love bites; the feminine triangle of her sex, not bare but lightly dusted in a sun burst of golden red...my cock rose at attention.

Now I look down at her. Her cheeks collapse around my girth and it feels fucking amazing. I can't help but set my hands on either side of her head to control the tempo but she draws away, disengaging from me, making my cock buck, unhappy at the loss of contact.

She takes my hand and kisses the middle of my palm. Looking up at me she utters one word, "Soon." And my hands are back at my sides. It's killing me not being able to touch her. Yet, I obey.

My eyes fall close when I'm wrapped in the heat of her mouth once again; all other things quickly forgotten . I let out a breath mixed with a groan of pleasure when she finds her rhythm...back and forth; back and forth...over and over. Shallow. Deeper. Licking. Sucking.

"Yes, baby...so good...uhhhh...shit."

America's head bobs, her strawberry lips running the course of my length, around the engorged veins of my member. "So fucking sexy, baby."

My wife has given me plenty of head but never allowed me to come in her mouth. To say it's not something every man wants to do would be a blatant lie. Every man does. It thrills that primal, dominant instinct for an alpha male to watch his lover willing, ready to accept such an intimate offering. I loved seeing the evidence of my climax on and in every part of America. But the mouth holds a special sensuality. Perhaps it's a mark of possession and submission. Whatever the reasons I wanted it. I wanted it bad enough that when the opportunity presented itself, I boldly grabbed it! And now I was reaping my reward. My due reward.

My stomach muscles spasm responding to America's oral love. I attempt controlling my breaths with minor success watching her tongue lave and swirl the head of my cock. She sucks only the head now and teases the slitted opening with the very tip of her tongue. Wicked. America pushes my dick against my stomach giving her full access to my balls. I audibly growl when she draws one into her mouth, sucking the tender nut then the other. She pulls on the second one making me hiss in painful pleasure and releases it with a pop. She repeats the action on its companion.

I smile down at her as she flashes me her signature naughty grin. Wicked, wicked girl.

She lends little opportunity for recovery, engulfs my manhood and clamps her hands down on my naked ass, taking me deep. I roar. I'm in her throat. She releases me with a gasp and does it again. My hands are two balled fists at my sides. America swallows me all the way to my root her lips tickling the downy field of my groin.

"Fuck, yes!"

Just when I think I can't hold out another second her head pumps faster, her lips gliding smoothly like a well-oiled machine. "Mmmm...Mmmm...Mmmm," she coo's.

Her hand comes to join her mouth both stroking me, stoking me, pumping me. Faster...Faster!

"Ohhh fuck! I'm... coming! Americaaaaa!" Then a fierce animalistic growl rips from me, booming into the confines of our bedroom.

I tighten my fists in her hair as my cock pumps my seed copiously into her mouth; my thighs shake with the power of my release. I force my eyes open not wanting to miss this moment for the world. America's lips are sealed shut around me as she takes my full load.

My fingers grip her hair harder as the last tremors of my climax ripple through me. "Fuuuuck! Yeees!"

When I withdraw, America opens her mouth and there it is– the creamy evidence of my delivery. My knees nearly buckle. It's such a hot, erotic sight.

"Swallow, baby." My thumb sweeps slowly over the curve of her chin, encouraging her.

She does as I instruct and that sends shivers down my spine.

"Damn... you're so fucking sexy, America."

She smiles and takes my softened member into her mouth genttly sucking and sucking some more; draining me. Running a flat tongue over my deflated cock in a final sweep. Lastly, she kisses the tip and still on her knees says, "Did you enjoy your reward?"

I trace that same thumb over her very swollen lips.

"Hell yes." I smile broadly at the mental snapshot of her mouth full of my cum. "That was perfect. You were perfect."

She lays a soft kiss on my abdomen; runs her hands down my thighs. I slip my fingers into her hair and when she looks up at me her eyes sparkle. She offers me that knowing, naughty smile, asks, "Can we do that again?"

I smile back. "Any time. Any place."

* * *

 ** _~ America_**

Maxon doesn't deposit his next load in my mouth.

No.

He opts instead to pin me against the wall, fucking me senseless.

I cry out in throes of carnal ecstasy as Maxon rewards me with a triple orgasm that leaves us both spent but deliciously sated.

I smile in blissful contentment as we finally stumble over to our unruffled king-sized bed and collapse. I stretch across the mattress like a feline after having lapped up a bowl full of warm cream. The thought tickles me. My belly and my pussy are full of Maxon. I stifle a yawn feeling suddenly tired and sleepy.

As I lay in bed against Maxon's naked body I can't help but muse.

Marlee was right. The experience was unreal and I can't wait to do it again. Feeling Maxon's flexing cock between my lips as he pumped his seed in my mouth brought me to my own incredible orgasm.

To see him shatter in my hands was even better.

Who said losing a bet didn't have its own rewards?

* * *

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	20. Goodnight Kisses

**Author's Notes:**

 ** _Initially, I was confident I wouldn't have a problem fulfilling my part, but as the days passed I wasn't quite sure I could go through with it. Now, I was desperate and running out of time. If I didn't pay up Maxon said I'd forfeit all of my goodnight kisses for two entire months! Oh, the fiend! But I couldn't have that! No way! I lived for my goodnight kisses! ~ America (from "His Due Reward")_**

 **Forfeiting Maxon's goodnight kisses? America was unwilling to consider such a thing! She lived for Maxon's wicked kisses. Read on to find out why!**

 **This Bedtime Story was inspired by a simple image I saw online. Goes to show, you just never know where you might find your inspiration!**

 **I'm dedicating this story to all you wonderful readers who've been reviewing and encouraging me to keep writing!**

 ** _WARNING!_** **For GRAPHIC sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been** **WARNED** **! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"Goodnight Kisses"**_

 **I am fascinated**

 **by the shape of your lips**

 **And how they fit**

 **So perfectly**

 **With the shape of mine**

\- Christy Ann Martine -

 _ **~ America**_

I sit propped against the headboard of my bed, my back cushioned by a mound of fluffy pillows. The lamps sitting on night tables on either side provide the only light in the otherwise darkened room.

I've just finished one more chapter of the latest romance novel that Marlee, my best friend insisted was a must read. _"You won't be able to put it down!"_ And so far, she's right! The novel is full of all the things I love with plenty of angst and drama. I'm frustratingly awaiting that moment when the hero and heroine finally succumb and confess their feelings for each other! They've come ever so close and it's killing me! Why can't people just cut the shit and confess their love! How infuriating, really! I am completely riveted by this story but the hour is getting late.

Squeezing my tired eyes between my fingers, I stifle a small yawn as I debate reading one more chapter. I glance at the small clock on my night table. I blink twice.

It's late.

The hands tell me it's half past midnight. I cup a hand over my mouth as another sleepy yawn escapes. Sleep lurks around the corner threatening to collect the stubborn soul of me into its lulling, waiting arms. It's a battle of wills that I realize I'm soon to lose. I've fought it off long enough and set my open book on my lap.

I sigh with disappointment noting the space next to me is still neatly made, untouched and awaiting its occupant. I'm in bed alone, the sheets next to me cold and vacant.

Maxon still hasn't come up causing me to continue on with the battle, waiting patiently before sleep overtakes me. Although the novel has been a good companion it's no replacement for Maxon.

I hate falling asleep without him. I miss the comfort of his body holding me to his. The softness of his skin against my palms; the strong, muscular arms I love, wrapped protectively around me. The way his lips brush against me and kiss me tenderly. The words he composes just for my ears…words that make every part of me blush.

Even though Maxon has kept to his word of not bringing any work up to our bedroom which I am ever grateful for, long work nights such as these are just as difficult to deal with.

I know he's been busy with running things. There's always some new issue, some fire that suddenly springs up needing his immediate attention. I've gotten used to it. I've learned my husband has a million responsibilities and running a country is no small task. But sharing Maxon is still hard for me.

I do my part…you know, the supportive queen bit. The days I've relinquished to the world but the nights are mine. They belong to me. They are my sacred time alone with Maxon. My one on one, non-interrupted time and lately, the world has seemed fit to take even that away from me. The thought makes my brow crinkle.

Nah ah. Not happening.

Fair is only fair, right?

I place the ribbon bookmark between the pages of the novel resting on my lap, my hero and heroine's plight put on hold for now. Closing the book with a thud I set it on the night table. What is a girl supposed to do when she is in want of her mate? When she's got needs, desires, cravings that require a certain someone's magic touch? Not that my marriage is lacking in romance or sex. Good god, no! Maxon is more than a capable lover. And our bed certainly doesn't lack in the exercise department. I am smugly beaming with pride to think of the mileage we've put on this baby since we were married. Quite a bit. The thought makes me blush even more so as it fills me with images of the exact sort of naughty actions we've performed on this very bed.

Nevertheless, I miss my husband. I want my husband. And the fact that he's presently absent... Well, let's just say that sleeping is now the last item on this girl's agenda.

So with renewed determination and a dampness pooling between my thighs I fling off the sheets. I'm going to go claim what is mine. I need my husband as much as the nation needs him.

I'm on my way to Maxon's office. I know it's where he'll be most likely pouring over a desk full of papers…proposals, treaties, budgets… you name it. I know he's probably exhausted too but even a king needs a diversion, I think wickedly.

I pad down the silent hallways barefoot. I changed out of my short little night dress and into a pair of yoga pants and a matching long sleeved top. I'm braless, of course. No need to feel the restrictions of undergarments this late in the evening. With the lack of curious servants milling around at this hour I love the freeness of it all.

The door to Maxon's office is unguarded which is not surprising. I'm still not comfortable with the idea but it was ultimately Maxon's decision. Since the conflict with the rebels had cooled and most activity in the palace occurred in the light of day, Maxon didn't deem it a necessity to have a guard posted after hours. I suppose this was a change for the better after his father's death.

I bristle at the thought of his father. King Clarkson had been a poisonous viper. A living cancer within these walls. He didn't like me at all, not that I cared after finding out what he'd done to Maxon. I was the lowly Five who made herself more of an inconvenience than an asset when I caught his son's eye. Unworthy of his son's affections, I was told. In the end our love did conquer all– his father's hate, the rebels even that bitch, Kriss and I couldn't be happier knowing how happy I make Maxon.

Smiling at that thought, I catch the light shining under the door of his office as I approach. I turn the knob not bothering to knock and peek my head inside.

"Maxon?"

His head tilts up from the papers he's holding in front of him. He smiles at me as our eyes meet. "Hey, sweetheart," he greets me as I step inside, the ember in my chest spreading warmth through my body at his welcoming tone. I close the door quietly behind me.

He's halfway standing and I tell him to sit. "No, don't get up. I just came to see how you were doing?"

"Did you bring coffee?" He grins. His tie has been gone it seems for quite some time. His collar, undone.

"No coffee." I show him my empty hands. "I'm sorry. Would you like me to ring for some?" I offer.

He gives me a tired smile. "Nah. I need to cut back anyway," he says, sinking back into his leather chair, his body sagging. He runs a hand through his hair and as he looks up to the ceiing, let's out a heavy sigh. He looks weary and suddenly the urge to get him out of this office is stronger than my own selfish reasons.

"That good, huh?" I ask wryly, hoping to lighten his burden if only for a mere second. I'm closing the distance between us, my toes sinking into the very plush, very expensive Persian carpet. I welcome the warmth it gives my cold feet.

Maxon's office which I've nicknamed "The War Room" is massive.

It's a masculine room. Power seems to radiate off the rich, dark wood adorning the walls. An entire wall is dedicated to so many books the shelves reach the ceiling. There's a boardroom table surrounded by a dozen chairs. A fine Italian leather couch that we've put to good use on several occasions sits on one side of the room. The sturdy mohoghany desk he sits behind anchors the room. I remember being splayed against the flat surface of this very desk, Maxon buried deep inside of me while I drowned in the blissful pleasure of my husband's demanding thrusts as he took me. I run my fingers along the edge of his desk as if it too shared the memory.

The drapes are unfortunately drawn closed over the large windows that overlook the south lawn. It's a gorgeous view during the day and a stunning one of the starry skies in the evening. I'm sure distractions are the last thing he needs right now. But, I'm a worthwhile distraction, I smile inwardly. Besides, I convince myself once again, he looks like he could use a nice distraction. ' _You're only doing your part in support of your country,'_ I muse.

"Just tedious work as usual," he says with a tired smile swiveling his chair to face me. I understand the lot on his plate for sure. Running an entire country, so many decisions to make, so many deals to broker, so many lives that can be affected by just a signature on a piece of paper. Yes, I feel all his anxiety even when he tries his best to mask it, like he is right now.

I lean over, cup his face between my hands and press a soft kiss on his lips and he moans in response, settling his hands on my hips.

"That was nice."

"You looked like you needed one."

"You always seem to know what I need when I need it," he says, his eyes sparking. He pulls me closer. I'm standing between his legs now and his fingers curve around my backside. He rakes his eyes over my body without a hint of shame.

"It's called being your wife," I smile attempting to divert the wanton sensations of my pussy.

He chuckles. "And I'm damn lucky to have you as mine."

"I agree."

His eyes crinkle at the corners and he chuckles in dark amusement, the baritone rumble of it sends delicious tingles down my spine...and a wave of heat between my thighs.

"What're you doing up so late, hmmm?" He asks, his voice husky. His nostrils flare and I'm certain he can scent me but he says nothing. Tease.

"I couldn't sleep. But, _my_ question is how much longer will you be?" I step out of his hold on my ass which isn't tight hoping to hide the evidence of my arousal. I snake a hand over the hard muscles of his shoulder as I move to stand behind him. Maxon groans once I begin massaging the span between his neck and shoulders.

"God, you're so tense!" I exclaim, the coiled muscles beneath my hand begging for relief.

His only replies are a string of moans and damn him if they aren't the sexiest of moans. And wicked thoughts spring as I imagine how many other variations I could make him utter with other parts of me.

I slide both arms around his shoulders, leaning in so my hands fan over, caressing the broad field of his hard chest. He feels amazing. I turn my nose into his neck and inhale his scent. His body shivers at my touch which excites my own in return.

Pressing an enticing kiss at the shell of his ear, I whisper, "I miss you," as I pluck open a button on his dress shirt. I trace the curve of his ear with the tip of my tongue and hear the groan of leather when he tightens his grip on the arms of his executive chair. I smile, nipping his earlobe. He releases a shaky breath. I love the effect I have on him!

"Babe… I've got a boat load to get done and you know if I come to bed there's no way in hell I'm coming back tonight. And trust me," he tells me, spinning his chair slowly about to face me once again, "there's no place I'd rather be than snug tight between your beautiful legs." He runs his hands down the curves of my hips, my outer thighs, grabbing the backs of my knees, making my feet shuffle until they meet the edge of his leather chair. "Of course, there's always my desk."

Did the man have no sense of mercy?! His words light my core on fire and my nipples instantly strain beneath my thin top. He notices their puckered reaction, and brushes the back of a hand over a very pebbled and highly sensitive nipple. "What do you say?" He asks with that panty dropping grin. I bite down hard on my bottom lip biting back a groan which makes him chuckle knowingly.

Fuck. His arrogance only proves to turn me on further as those rich pools of chocolate eyes begin undressing me.

Goodness gracious! The man could have me stripped naked and bent over his desk in two breaths! God, I'm hopeless. I clear my throat, snapping to. "Tempting but..."

"How about…" he says as he stands, "a goodnight kiss instead?"

I huff, incredulous, looking up at him. "A what?! Does it look like a kiss is what I …"

But he cuts me off before I'm finished. "I'm quite sure it is, sweetheart. Don't you trust me?"

"Err...yes... But that's not exactly what I wanted or what I thought we both had in mind!"

I'm so besides myself I don't even notice that he's taken hold of my hand and we've moved a few steps; that Maxon's leading me over to the couch by the hand.

"Sit," he gestures at the couch. I hesitate. "Please."

I arch a brow but obey melting at the way he's smiling at me. Cocky as hell.

The usual cold leather of the mocha couch looks softer, bathed in the buttery hue of the lamp light. It looks cozy. Inviting. It gives as we take our places side by side.

We shift as we face each other but Maxon doesn't speak. His gaze burrows into mine. He doesn't look tired any longer. Instead, a predator is staring back at me. I swallow the giant knot in my throat suddenly feeling trapped, unable to breathe, unable to move. My heart is pounding something fierce and my chest heaves as I desperately suck in my next breath. Maxon's sharp eyes zero in on my physical reactions and that smile crooks to one side. Maybe kissing me to an orgasm was Maxon's plan, however, it didn't mean kissing was all I had agreed to do! I conspire, defiantly, grasping for whatever remaining thread I have left of my senses!

The back of his hand sweeps tenderly across my cheek, slips into my hair. He releases the clip holding my locks. My hair tumbles down, freed. "Better," he says tossing the clip over his shoulder. Maxon's hand returns to my loosed hair threading through the strands, down until his fingertips play with the very ends, rubbing their softens between the pads. "I love your hair like this, do you know that?" I'm at once assaulted by goose flesh and feel my nipples tighten painfully, begging for his touch and his wet mouth. His eyes are so intense as he looks at me, as if he's examining me for the first time, figuring out what to do with me. Where to take his first bite and I've never felt so naked while still wearing clothes.

Our eyes lock. He leans in. I lean in. And when his lips touch mine, so softly they barely brush it's fire to tinder. A slow, smoldering fire as he controls the pace of the kiss. He kisses the corners of my mouth. My top and bottom lip pulling the latter gently with his teeth.

My senses are alert and achingly so. I want to scream!

I'm shivering from the crown of my head to the tips of my bare toes as he brushes his tongue across the seam of my lips and my mouth opens slowly to his in greeting.

His kiss is sensual, unhurried.

My heart is a fierce, thunder clap in my chest.

It feels as if time has frozen and there is nothing outside of these walls, this couch, this kiss.

Our lips press and pull apart. Our tongues are at play, teasing, luring, beckoning. He's kissing me so painfully slow my mind is solely focused on his tongue sweeping over mine. He's keeping me off-balance and it's working. He pulls the bottom of my lip between his teeth once again. Sets it free. If that doesn't send a lightning bolt straight to my clit! I greedily want more feeling myself leaning further into Maxon as I deepen the kiss, clutching at the material of his shirt as if my survival depended on it.

This goodnight kiss is going to be the death of me or worse, drive me absolutely insane! Because I'm but a mere second from winding up on his lap and giving him his own personal lap dance. Yet, somehow I'm still on the couch completely wrapped up in Maxon's kiss. Damn, he knows what he's doing and because he does, a torrent soaks my pants when his lips wrap around my tongue sucking it softly at the same time his thumb finds my nipple. If I weren't already flushed I'd blush at the recollection that I wasn't wearing any panties.

He obliges me by deepening the kiss more but only for a few seconds longer before pulling away, leaving me gasping with need.

"Maxon…" His name a breathless whisper, a plea written on my face. He smiles and damn him for realizing how much control he has.

"Shhh... I know, darling." He strokes my nipple in delicious circles. "Let me take care of you."

 _'Yes...please...'_ I pray silently because god, I'm soaked. And throbbing!

He gently turns me to face away from him, his warm, masculine hands running the length of my arms, soothing the goosebumps under my shirt.

Then those incredible hands begin massaging me the way I had done to him and I can't hold in my own moans of delight as my head falls to one side then the other.

"That feels sooo good…" I hear myself blissfully moan.

He scoots closer behind me, his lips teasing my neck, laying sweet kisses along the span of exposed skin. I breathe in shaky breaths and I am unsure of how much more of this torture I am willing or capable of enduring!

But Maxon isn't giving up an inch of control. None.

My body is a torch lit by the touch of his hands, his mouth. I lean back into his chest, needing more contact. Maxon slips his hands underneath my arms and brings them around to cup both of my breasts. I push into his hands, my body urgently needing his touch. He starts teasing me then, the center of his palms circling both my nipples over my top. I voice my pleasure but I am simultaneously losing my mind! He fondles my little rocks as his breathing and intermittent kisses play at my ear.

"Maxon…" my voice sounds strangled.

"What is it, baby?"

"Pleeease… pleeease." I'm begging now and I don't care how weak or shameless or desperate I sound. All I know is that I need him to quiet this tempest in my core... this wild fire he's lit blazing inside of me.

I turn my head over my shoulder and his mouth is right there and couples mine. Fully. He holds nothing back as I consume him. Maxon growls as I eagerly push for him to give into me; to give me what I want; what I'm desperate for. Reaching for the back of his head to keep him where he is. But he catches my hand and masters himself all too quick. Breaks the kiss.

"Naughty girl," he murmurs. "So impatient."

I blush feeling my pussy pulsating.

Then my top disappears. Just like that.

He resumes his caresses– my swollen breasts, soft in his hands.

"These are so damn perfect," he says at my ear.

I feel pride bloom at his words. His hands are gentle, fondling me, twirling my peaked buds between his fingers. He pinches them, not too hard but enough that my body surges with pleasure. And yes, my clit jumps with a thrill. I clench my thighs together to soothe myself but doing that only reminds me of how empty I feel. That emptiness heightens my awareness. I need to feel Maxon sinking into me, stretching me and completely filling my void.

Maxon drops kisses on the curvature of my bare shoulder; my upper back. I fight not to quiver. He's laying kisses down every notch of my spine now. Running his tongue up the groove.

I'm a complete and utter mess.

I'm helpless against him, my body under the spell he's skilfully cast over me.

And I'm speechless because my mind has gone numb with pleasure.

Because Maxon is on his knees.

"Ready for your goodnight kiss?"

"What…?" My fogged brain replies. I'm absolutely baffled. He shifts my hips, facing them forward.

Maxon's grin is crooked. A devil's grin, I note.

"Hips. Up."

I lift them without question, seeing the satisfied, predatory glint in his eyes at my lack of any underwear as he peels my pants down over my hips. And the more gratifying smile that comes along at the obvious evidence of how aroused he's made me when he sees the damp spot on the seat of my yoga pants. I feel heat cover my face and ignite my core at the same time.

I lean against the back of the couch at his direction. Maxon takes hold of my hips. Brings my bottom to the edge of the couch. He gently pulls my legs apart. And shamelessly gazes at the most intimate part of me. His eyes meet mine. Those dark, predatory eyes bore into me once again. Lock me in place.

"You didn't answer me."

What was the question? Did he ask me a question?

I can't remember and I feel the heat of embarrassment flush my cheeks. Maxon's mouth tugs into a smile. He doesn't wait for me to answer because my fate is already sealed. I swallow. This is going to happen. Whether I'm ready or not, he's left that up to me.

Maxon's torso is wedged between my legs. And I'm so lost the second his lips make contact with my mouth…my throat…my breasts, his tongue idly circling a beaded nipple, sucking, biting softly. One... then the other. He kisses down my body… every centimeter; each kiss a brand on my hot skin. He dips his tongue into my navel. I gasp and my head sinks back into the soft leather of the couch. My body thrums with life, my breasts ache and I can't ignore the hunger biting between my legs where he's now headed. His hands are wrapped around my slender thighs, teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs with his thumbs. My hips move to encourage those fingers closer to that sweet spot begging for his attention.

I'm trembling with anticipation. I'm swollen and aching for some action.

I hear myself groan when a finger, his index finger skims the line of my womanhood coating it with my dewy offering. I have to bite down on one of my own fingers to keep from shouting.

"You're so beautiful," I hear Maxon say.

My heart booms nearly leaving me breathless. My fingers struggle to find anything to grab on to. I curl them around the leather edge of the seat cushion.

He runs that finger over me again and again. My fingers tighten around the soft leather. I watch as his lips part, those brown eyes glued on that finger teasing my moist flesh. He raises that finger glistening with my arousal to his mouth; sucks it off...shit... and comes back with a second…his middle as he forks my pussy, pressing my inner folds together up to my sensitive hood. He pinches my clit between those two wicked fingers and gently tugs and I cry in approval.

Maxon grins at my reaction. "Give me more, baby. I want to hear you."

My body responds without a moment's hesitation and I mew like a cat in heat!

"That's it. God...look at you."

I can only imagine what I must look like.

I feel wanton and reckless as I round my hips praying for Maxon's thick fingers to put me out of my misery but...

He doesn't penetrate me. He plays with me… teases me... the pad of his index finger torturously rubbing my clit in delectable, swirling motions. He spreads my inner folds with a couple of fingers and blows a sweeping breath over me that's nearly my undoing!

One of my feet is lifted off the floor, held in his masculine hand as he brings it to his lips, branding the arch with tender kisses. Maxon's lips continue scorching a path from the inside of my ankle up my calf...up...up to my inner thigh, sucking the crux. He gives the other equal attention and I'm trying my best to hold on without falling off the couch!

He props the foot in his hand over his shoulder. Hooks a hand behind the knee of the opposite leg. Pushes it up.

And lowers his head.

"Ohhhh!" My eyes flare open.

The initial contact is glorious!

The tip of his tongue licks my center and I pitch forward. I can't help but watch the crown of his head move as he's feasting on me... eating me. Watching that head of short blonde hair between my legs bobbing and swaying raises my beating pulse and makes my clit throb. I sink a hand, my right, into his hair.

I moan as his full tongue at times gentle, at others rough, moves over me, between my folds. And I'm mesmerized seeing how his lips suckle my nether lips, how he pulls on them and how his tongue curves and traces and sweeps against my soft flesh to pleasure me. My head falls back, a smile etched on my face, eyes glued on our shadows, a joined mass of black dancing on the ceiling up above. His tongue knows me so well… knows what I live for...

My clit.

And Maxon has mastered the art of clit play.

I love it when his nose brushes my clit.

I grab his hair when he flicks and bats it with his tongue.

When he draws it and sucks it between his lips it makes me croon.

And when he bites it…I nearly come!

His large hands slip between my legs now to cradle my bottom and he lifts me up bringing me to his mouth like a tasty meal on a platter. He's feasting on me as he in turn stares at me; daring me to watch him claiming what belongs to him. So fucking wicked.

He is so hot. I can hardly believe he's all mine!

Maxon bears down on me unexpectedly, holding me in place, pushing against my knees to open me up further to him.

My heels dig into the edge of the couch. Both of my hands are full of his hair, clutching, as he spears me with his tongue, fucking me with it. But when he replaces it with two fingers, filling me up to his knuckles, slowly finger-fucking me while sucking on my clit...

 _Good god!_

I feel my walls instantly contract and spasm violently. I'm panting like a bitch, my orgasm banging at the door. My eyes roll to the back of my head. My mouth gapes open in a silent scream.

Maxon groans against me making me feel the rumbling of his mouth through my core, his fingers spearing me and a shameless "UHHHH!," and "FUCK, YES!" rips from my throat in response. I buck against his mouth. He pushes my ass back unto the seat of the couch with full authority. He is in command and let's me know it which completely unravels me, feeling his power, his control against mine. He growls this time and the vibrations ripple through me and yes, _**YEEES!**_ Are enough to break my dam!

I cry out not caring who hears it. His mouth is flushed tightly against me as I fall to pieces in his mouth.

"Mmmm! Mmmm!" He growls, against me. His need hungrier. His kiss insistent, demanding. Fingertips dig into my hips, harder, his silent command telling me to pour out my soul, to give him everything!

Because he wants it.

All of it.

And I do.

My legs are shaking so badly I can barely control them. I squeeze my eyes tight, lightning flashing behind my closed lids as another orgasm claims me! And this time when I cry out, it's his name on my lips. And his name on my heart.

The thing I love about Maxon is that he isn't a one beat drummer. The way he changes the flow and rhythm of our love making keeps this girl and her pussy always thrilled in anticipation of what's in store.

In other words he is not a bore whatsoever. And this proves my point as he unexpectedly presses his thumb on my clit and I come again all over his mouth.

As tranquility spreads through me, my boneless, pliant body sinks into the couch. I feel sated, relaxed and suddenly spent. I watch Maxon surface from between my thighs, his lips glistening with me. And he sweeps his tongue over his mouth and sucks his lips.

Damn. If that isn't the sexiest thing.

"Don't do that," I warn him. I know he's just run a trifecta on my ass but it didn't mean I couldn't ride him to a fourth orgasm.

He wiggles his eyebrows and offers only a chuckle in response. He takes a seat beside me and I cuddle against his chest. He reaches for the afghan on the arm of the couch and drapes it over me. I sigh contended feeling his arm around me and the comforting warmth of his clothed body against my nakedness.

"Watching you fall apart...god...it never gets old," he confesses, his mouth against my forehead is such an endearing, comforting gesture after the heat of passion.

I bite my lower lip to stave off the blush heating my cheeks.

Lifting my eyes once I feel brave enough to do so, I ask, "Why didn't you tell me that's what you meant by a goodnight kiss?"

"What? And ruin my surprise?"

I sit up, my eyes wide in shock. "You planned this all along?"

He shrugs. "Maybe."

"You scoundrel!" I shove his shoulder. Maxon tips his head back and his laughter roars.

Afterwards he adds with a telling grin, "I am your scoundrel or rake whichever you'd like me to be."

He nuzzles my neck as he palms one of my breasts. Damn. The way he touches me makes my body sizzle even though I've just climaxed...three times!

"Both."

"Greedy."

It's my turn to laugh, settling against him once again and he wraps both arms around me this time. I stifle a yawn, suddenly feeling dreadfully tired. Sleep wishes to claim me but I fight it and ask against his neck, "But...what about you?" I know he hasn't had relief and I hate leaving him like that. I mean, he went above and beyond his call. That goodnight kiss was unreal. He could've done what I think most guys would've done and dove in straight for a quickie. But my Maxon isn't most guys. He's always making sure I'm well taken care of... because as he often tells me, I'm _'his queen'_.

He kisses the top of my head.

"Don't worry."

"But..."

"I'm always happy to oblige my queen."

"With more goodnight kisses?"

I feel him smile against my head.

"Sweet dreams, America."

Sweet dreams indeed.

* * *

 **"I want to kiss you**

 **Good morning between your legs**

 **And taste your dreams of us.** _ **"**_

\- Victor Hugo Mota -

 _ **~ Maxon**_

As I carry my darling America to bed I can still taste her on my lips.

Damn. Watching her pretty little face twist with pain and pleasure at my hands almost pushed me over the edge tonight.

This woman is my fucking muse.

And my goodnight kisses are my latest song written indelibly on her lips. A song she will never forget. A song I've composed only for her. And one I'll gladly sing for her with my lips between her legs.

* * *

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	21. The King and His Throne

**Author's Notes:**

 **Maxon is king. A man of power. A man seated on a throne with a country at his feet. But even the best of kings have dark desires laying dormant within.**

 **The crown was his from birth. The throne is his power. The throne room his playground.**

 **Maxon's dark fantasy will emerge tonight.**

 **This Bedtime Story was inspired by a Guest reader who posted: _'_ _Would you be able to write a story of them making love on the throne and Maxon has a king kink!'_**

 **If this was you, here is your Bedtime Story chapter!**

 ** _WARNING!_**

 **THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE.**

 **Contains GRAPHIC sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been** **WARNED** **! All others please continue on and...**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 **Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories**

 _ **"The King and His Throne"**_

 **I am the king.**

 **I tell.**

 **I am not told.**

 **I am the verb, sir.**

 **Not the object.**

~ King George III ~

 _ **~ Maxon**_

Power…

It's seductive.

That invisible yet tangible force with the means to mend and equally destroy.

It's a kind and yet ruthless master– an asset if kept in its proper place, precariously balaced on the weighted scale of politics; molded in the imperfect, unpredictable hands of men and women.

If respected, it's potential for goodwill toward all is immeasurable. If not, it's oppression is suffocating.

In the hands of those too arrogant and foolish of heart it's a volatile, uncontrollable beast ready to consume the weak minded. An ally turned unforgiving foe when it unleashes its rage against its abusers without mercy, without pity. At their end it laughs aloud in the face of their vanity. It bites the very hand it has fed.

Yet...

People want it.

People crave it.

Revolutions it has sparked, wars fought over millennia by peoples and nations and tribes wishing, hoping for a small, sweet taste of it; its asking price tallied in the countless lives it claims and the stain of bloodshed it leaves in its wake.

Some will do anything to get it. To hold it close in a lover's embrace for just a moment …if you're willing to bear the cost.

Kill, betray, barter, sleep with your brother's wife; even sell your own soul–

Hmph. Take a closer look at my own royal bloodline. Abby Tamblin Illéa allegedly poisoned her husband, Prince Justin Illéa, just a few years into their marriage and then married his cousin, Porter Schreave. Royal bastards, were they not?

Friendships? What is a mere mortal compared to its divinity? The hand of your brother is nothing sacred in its sight for it rents the bond to pieces without a fleeting thought of conscience, never seeking absolution.

The mere fact that I, born a One, by chance or fate or destiny, whatever you wish to call it, had been cradled in its arms, a babe shrouded by its protective mantle from the second I took my first breath. This power is my birthright. It has been handed to me. It is mine to wield.

So, I sit here on my throne. A king, destined to rule.

This seat of power, carved of the rarest ebony, made by some craftsman before I was born. It has waited patiently for it's future king, for the rebirth of a new era. For me. I would claim it and all that it granted when the time was just right.

My time came sooner than most expected and I'm not sorry. My father was undeserving of the privilege. A man who abused his power; balking at the thought that he as King bowed to nothing– not to any man, any god, not to the power in his hands. My father was a fool who believed that power would be his saving grace, as if it owed him something in return. Some pardon, some immunity for all his sins. How mistaken he was. Hence he paid with his life. And through his death, I gained my sovereignty.

Now this seat belongs to me.

From here I rule my kingdom and everyone in it. My loyal subjects.

I'm not an asshole by any means. I like to think myself a fair man, a ruler that wants the best for his people. A king who'd do the right thing for his nation. I've got big plans and a room full of advisers telling me my goals are too ambitious. I've already been told that too many times for my liking.

Well, here's a fucking news flash: I've got plenty of drive. I am young and full of energy. We will fix what is deemed unfixable. So all my critics can kiss my ass.

But for all the good I dream to do, I would be a liar to say, I didn't love that power in my hands. And I would be a liar if I told you I didn't like the way it makes me feel. It makes me feel alive, makes my blood sizzle. A word from my mouth is a command. My signature on a piece of paper and it's law.

I have so much fucking power. Me. _'_ _A nineteen year old boy'_ , some like August Illéa would sneer.

Well, fuck them.

This is my privilege and whether they like it or not it is mine.

This throne is my power. I run a hand over the fine wood of the armrest beneath my palm. I feel its energy seep into me. It feeds on me and although I allow it to feast, I remain conscious of its insidious nature. It has granted me much– wealth, prestige, immunity, control. But I've come to learn by observation to abide by its rules.

I never appreciated my birthright before, never truly realized the control it gave me over others and now as I assert myself, to this new role, this new gift... I find myself being seduced by its very hands. It's tendrils reach into my bones seeking to manifest itself through me, a willing vessel to do its bidding.

And tonight It wants to come out to play.

A smile grows wide on my face.

 _'It's good to be the king.'_ I heard that in a movie once and hell yes, I agree. It is good.

Silence surrounds me in the vast emptiness of the throne room. I look about this large space seated from the dais. The marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Heavy royal blue drapes embroidered in gold thread hang loose from the high windows. The Recoder's table sits off to one side of the room, bare of it's usual mounds of paper. The family crests of every royal to rule Illéa rest on the walls– a remembrance to their legacy. My eyes still on my crest, newly commissioned after my marriage to America. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I snicker at the thought of what my father would say.

He'd think me a fool, I'm certain of it. I married a Five after all.

And I don't give a fuck.

America is my life. The air I breathe. The only woman I have ever loved... will ever love.

She is my queen.

She, like my throne, belongs to me.

I know her touch, her kisses, the taste of her on my lips... the sounds she makes in those quiet hours in the morning when I'm buried deep inside of her. And the ones I make her scream in the throes of passion.

Fuck.

The mere thought of her sends blood rushing to my dick.

I await her arrival as I sit here, barefoot, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, giving my manhood a squeeze as it strains against the material of my black trousers.

Although we may be equals in the bedroom, we are not here, not in this place. Here, in the throne room my power is unmatched. It is why I chose it. Tonight we're playing by my rules.

Because I am the king.

And whatever I say, she will do. No questions asked. She will savor the power I possess. Yes, she will submit to it. To me, her king. Every inch of her body. Every thought, every breath... all of her.

The thought of America obeying my every command makes me harder.

I undo the button of my trousers. My fingers find the zipper and pull it down. It relieves a bit of my discomfort but it's not enough. I slip my hand into my boxer briefs, wrapping my fingers around my girth. I squeeze the base trying my best to temper the need in my loins. I'm fucking sensitive and hard and so ready for some damn action. I've been thinking about this for days. I've been thinking about every wicked thing I'm going to do to America. And the thought that she can't refuse me is even better.

I look down at my tip. Precum beads there and I spread it about my head with my thumb. A muffled groan rumbles in the back of my throat as my head slowly falls back; thoughts of America giving me head as I sit here churn my balls. I slide my fist up and down my length but the ministration is unsatisfying. A pathetic substitution that doesn't even come close to the real thing.

I've got plans tonight. Big plans.

I withdraw my hand and as I readjust myself my body stills when a voice echoes from the entrance.

"Good evening, Your Majesty."

My dick on hearing her voice reacts at once, bucking in my boxers and I bite my bottom lip at the headiness I feel, at the sudden rush of blood to my manhood. I raise my eyes to see America standing across the room. I don't know how long she's been standing there and her expression reveals nothing. Just as well. I sink back casually into my seat regaining my control and feeling arrogant as fuck. My gaze slowly rakes over her.

She's dressed exactly as I had instructed her to present herself before me.

With her diamond studded crown atop her head and nothing else.

My cock twitches. I want nothing more than to feel her heated, velvet sheath wrapped tight around me. I crave to hear her voice bounce off these damn walls tonight. Soon. Soon.

"Approach your king," I order, my tone full of authority.

She gives a curtsy as she should because I am the king and she, although my partner and queen is still my loyal subject.

America nears, her bare feet padding across the marble floor. She walks like royalty, head held high and pride set in her shoulders. Sassy, I think. And hot as fucking hell.

I run a thumb over the lip I had just bitten into, my eyes appreciatively take in every part of her. Her crown– the symbol of my ownership glints when it catches the fire light dancing off the sconces perched on the walls. Her voluminous red hair, the length which drapes over her shoulders and reaches her full, pink tipped breasts. My fingers flinch at the thought of curving around those beauties. I trail over the flat plane of her stomach, the inward curve of her narrow waist and those hips I love to hold on to when I'm thrusting from behind. And of course my mouth waters when I stare at the triangle of her sex recalling the taste of her. And finally... those lean legs; those lovely legs I love having wrapped around my hips or hooked over my shoulders as I give her everything she begs for... with full might.

I feel a corner of my mouth tilt upwards in a subtle grin. Damn, I love this woman. She could have me on both knees doing her obeisance with a snap of her fingers. Then I remind myself not tonight; that I am the king.

She reaches the dais and is about to take a step up.

"Stop!" I command with a raised hand. Her step halts immediately. My brow furrows. "Did I grant you permission to join me?"

She looks at me with a hint of fire in those blue eyes and a tiny sneer on her glossy lips. Good. I match her sneer with my own. I like a little resistance.

"My mistake, Your Majesty," she offers the apology, her voice sweet as honey. America takes that errant step back from the dais, remembering the role I've cast for her tonight. "Please forgive my being presumptuous."

My tone unaffected by her apology issues a careful reminder, "Your place may be next to me, my queen, but I am still your King... and Master."

"I understand, Your Majesty."

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other." Her submission empowers me. "Now..." I sit back relaxed, my elbows at rest on the arms of my throne, fingers steepled against my lips. "Turn around, darling." I gesture a twirling motion with my index finger. "Slowly," I emphasize. "I want to take a good look at you."

My eyes are glued to her perfect body as she follows my direction. My cock bucks and again I squeeze the impatient bastard through my gaping trousers.

Such perfect tits and nice, rounded ass I can't wait to get my hands on and slap once or twice. Maybe more if I'm inclined.

When she faces me again, "Come here," I jerk my head. Every gesture is purposeful in this little game. Every nod, tilt of the head, motion of the hand; each serves as a reminder of who I am and the power that belongs to me.

America steps up unto the dais. "You're stunning," I utter like a man appraising first class goods.

"I am honored you approve, Your Majesty," she replies and it makes me grin a little.

"You should be. Now," I beckon with a couple of fingers, "Closer."

Her rosy, budded tips are directly in my line of sight peeking through the curtain of red hair but it's the dusted hint of auburn at the apex between her thighs that captures my undivided attention. I sit up straighter. "Look at me." Blue eyes lock with my dark ones fanning the anticipation growing thick between us. I reach out, keenly watching her reaction as I skim a finger between her legs. And what I find there stretches my boxers even tighter. "Fuck… you're so wet." My voice is smooth, low, dangerous.

She shivers at my touch, her eyes half-lidded, her pretty mouth slightly open. Wedging my hand further between her thighs, she parts them just enough for me to cup her sex with my palm and damn if she doesn't feel incredible. That groan in the back of my throat rumbles again as I glide my fingers between her folds. The thought that she's already this slick for me only serves to deepen my arrogance.

I draw back a couple of gooey fingers. Stick one in my mouth; the second follows. She watches with a spark in those blue eyes as I suck my fingers clean finishing the initial tasting with a loud sucking sound. "You are quite delicious. Just the way I remember you." I say.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

I push her hair aside, feeling a current of tremors under my fingertips as they graze the swells of her breasts, exposing those lovely ivory, twin orbs into full view. Her breasts look heavy. To my delight, her nipples are perked at attention and oh so ready. I flash her a grin and her cheeks bloom. I lick my thumbs and circle her peaked buds reveling the hardened little rocks beneath. I watch as her face slackens and she sighs in pleasure. The power I hold over her mesmerizes me.

I scoop a breast in each hand and hear her whimper a little louder once my mouth latches on to one, sucking gently at first and then the other, to suckle harder, raking my teeth over her tips, abusing them a bit by tugging at them between my teeth and releasing. And with every pull she lets me know she's in need and wants more.

I pull back watching her closely as I twirl her nipples between my thumbs and fore fingers. I drop my gaze to what I'm doing and groan as the visual of it fans my wicked desires. And I suddenly wonder who really is in control?

But this isn't the time for analytics or philosophy. I squash the thought at once. Before I can think I feel some dark need erupt and my hand cups the back of her neck and pulling her head down, I kiss her, hard. America braces herself against my shoulders meeting my kiss with equal eagerness. And I don't think I'm the only one who's dipped into that dark pocket of lust we try to pretend doesn't exist.

The kiss is intense and explosive. I grab at her hips and her legs part as if she's readying to perch on my lap but I stop her, abruptly breaking our heated kiss.

"So eager," I breathe, slipping a finger into her mouth. She wraps those kissable lips tightly around my digit and I feel my own mouth parting at how sensual she looks. Her tongue glides over my finger as she sucks on it intimating everything I'm well aware that mouth of hers is capable of doing.

"Kneel," I tell her, my gaze hard on her. The sudden change of direction stuns her a bit as she tries to regain focus but she obeys and sinks to her knees between my legs.

"Excellent," I commend as she awaits further instructions. Her face is flushed and her lips, god those lips are swollen from my bruising kiss and I know where I want those lips right now.

"Give me your hand."

She does as she's told and I place it on my thick length, my hand over hers making her appraise the current state she's put me in. "See what you've done? Touch me and tell me." I draw back my hand so she can independently take in the full effect of my erection. Hardened. Like granite.

I see her swallow. "Ohhh..." She squeezes along my hardened length and damn if that doesn't feel good. "I'm...I'm sorry if I've made you...uncomfortable, Your Majesty." Her eyes are on her fingers working my cock and I don't want her gaze there so hooking a finger beneath her chin I tilt it up so she can look at me. I pin her with a look, my eyes narrowed and unforgiving. I love watching her swallow the knot in her throat.

"Yes, you have. What do you think a good queen should do about it?"

"Make it better, Your Majesty," she answers.

I regard her with a wicked grin and nod. I feel the predator inside pounce. "That's right," I run my fingers along the apple of her cheek, over her lips. "You will make me feel better, won't you?" She nods. "Make me come, America...in that pretty mouth of yours." I run my thumb a little harder across her lips, smearing some of the gloss. They're soft, supple.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Once I'm divested of my trousers and briefs I watch with fascination and hunger as she rests her head between my thighs, my erection angry and standing at full attention. America runs her open hands over my upper thighs then scorches me with soft kisses to my inner thighs, sucking the flesh there lightly at times. That was new and quite enjoyable. When she runs her tongue from my balls to the tip of my cock, I'm the one who's groaning out loud. I take hold of myself.

"Open your mouth," I say and watch, my eyes burning with lust as I slowly feed her my cock. I disappear into her mouth with a sound that's close to a grunt, holding her head steady until I'm in her throat. I release her as she comes up for air, her cheeks are rose tinted and damn if it doesn't turn me on.

"Again," I tell her and bracing on my thighs she goes down again, deep throating me over and again. I close my eyes allowing the moist sensation of her mouth, her tongue, her lips to sweep over me. When I open them, I catch the glimmer of the diamond studs on her crown and damn if it isn't the sexiest thing to watch as my queen sucks my dick. I sit back on my throne as she renders me service like I expect her to. Her mouth grips and glides over me, teasing my rigid tip with her tongue, skimming the outer rim, collapsing those lovely cheeks along my shaft. The heat of her mouth as she fills it with my flesh makes my stomach muscles contract. Hearing her make those little sounds as she dutifully ministers to me... I instinctively reach for her.

I grab a handful of her red locks at the back of her head controlling her movements as I continue to watch. How that crown stayed glued on her head I didn't know. But there it sat, giving me the middle finger, reminding me that the queen should not be trifled with. Well, yeah? Neither should the king. I tighten my fist around her hair and she shivers against my inner thighs. I grunt as pleasure and self-satisfaction consume me. The experience is exquisite, better than I had hoped. Being in this open room enshrouded with title and privilege watching America at my order suck my cock...fuck... I nearly come but I hold back finding enough strength to not embarrass myself.

I pull her head back gently by her hair, disengaging myself from her mouth with my free hand. She looks at me with wide-eyed expectation. I'm drawn to her mouth, those perfectly plump lips and on impulse I drop my head and bite her bottom lip, not to draw blood just hard enough to excite then soothe it with my tongue. I pull back. "Pucker your lips."

Shit. Her lips are titillating and I press the head of my cock against those puckered lips, rubbing my engorged crown over and over those luscious, biteable lips. I guide her along my swollen shaft, drunk on the sight of my manly flesh pressing against her lips in full, lazy strokes.

Untangling my grip on her hair, "Open." It's a one worded order and there's not a wink of hesitation. Gaining entrance I slip back into her mouth and like a king, I sit back and enjoy. America is a picture of beauty as her eyes catch mine with wicked intent laced in her stare as she pushes me closer and closer to the edge. I sit back with a feral grin of my own watching her lips glide over me, making my cock glisten. And this beauty is all mine.

Fuck you, Aspen.

Yes, the thought flashes through my mind. I know that motherfucker still has feelings for my wife. But to the winner goes the spoils and this is one prize he had clumsily let slip through his fingers. Fortunately for me I had regained my senses before it was too late. And now look at her. She is right where she belongs. Sucking _my_ dick.

I feel the pull of climax rising through my shaft, pulsating from deep in my balls as America employs both mouth and an educated, rigorous hand over my manhood with one goal in mind.

My voice booms as release grips me tight and clutching the arms of my throne, I spill myself in America's mouth, on her tongue as she uses it as a welcome mat of her reward for a job well done. I feel my eyes glaze when she opens her mouth to my view, filled with my cum and proceeds to swallow and licks her lips and sucks them afterwards.

Hot. Fucking. Damn.

She raises her eyes to mine, the light of expectation shining bright, begging for words of approval.

"You are exquisite, darling."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." That smile she gives me makes my heart skip several beats.

But the festivities are far from over even as my manhood rests sated and looking sad, far from the prideful, angry bastard it had been moments ago.

"Now, my queen. What should I have you do to entertain me further?" I ask but I already know what I want. Didn't mean I couldn't drag this game out a little more for my pleasure. I'm curious as to what she'd offer since my member is currently indisposed.

She looks up at me from her kneeling position. Her pupils blown. "Would you like me to dance for you?"

I arch a brow. And gesture to the open floor. "Please."

America stands and stepping down on to the floor from the dais she commences with a sensual dance that has me stirring to life faster than even I anticipated. It isn't the first time she's danced for me. I love the little striptease dances she does for me now and then. Those damn dance lessons she's been taking have been worth their weight in my gold. That's money well spent if you ask me. And right now, I can't help to ogle her like a horny teenager watching a woman get naked for the first time. It's just the way it is with America. The way she moves that body of hers, swaying those hips, that tight ass in front of me, showcasing her assets, running her hands over her body... good lord! Watching her put on this little show even without the benefit of music is such an erotic sight that I don't notice I'm running a fist over myself again. When she catches me unashamedly fisting my own cock I can't miss the grin of satisfaction on her lips.

I growl at her silent challenge. The scales are seemingly tipping in her favor until suddenly they're not.

"Touch yourself." I command. My request halts her dancing. She looks at me questioningly. I flash a dark grin in response.

"That day I caught you in the garden... playing with yourself..."

"I wasn't..."

I cut her off.

"I want to see you. Now. Touch yourself, America... like you were doing that day."

Yeah, I had caught her, hand stuffed in her panties, pleasuring herself and she had run off completely embarrassed at my discovery but damn was the sight of her with her hand in her panties, thinking about me as she fondled her sex... hell, it shot a thrill of excitement through my own body. I never had the pleasure of catching her in the act again.

The temporary wall of resistance she'd erected turns to dust in one breath as she complies, "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Danger lurks behind those blue eyes. She speaks with a breathy tone that's caked with warning as if I have no clue that I've unwittingly backed myself into a corner. As if she's a viper ready to strike and sink her venemous fangs into my flesh. I won't back down. Not tonight, my queen. Nevertheless, my body thrums with excitement. And with greedy eyes I follow her every move.

America lowers herself to the floor directly in front of my throne, leans back on an elbow as she slowly spreads her long, shapely legs. She props them up at her sides, lifts her heels, pressing her red toes into the floor. That small adjustment makes her look even sexier. The temperature gauge definitely rises. I lean forward in my throne, my erection straining at the view she's giving me. Perfect. She bares herself to me. I lick my lips; mouth watering as it recalls the sample I tasted earlier. My interest is piqued and she can see it, flashing me a triumphant little smirk in return.

I undo the buttons on my shirt all the while my eyes are fixed on what she's doing.

America runs her flat palm over her belly and between her breasts and back down, teasing me as she worships her own body. When she slips her hand between her legs, to her womanhood she shows me exactly what I had missed that day. Burning hell. She's the picture of sin sitting in front of me, spread eagle to my eyes, a diadem of diamonds sparkling like a halo, looking forbidden, untouchable.

Temptress– thine name is America.

I bite into my lower lip... hard enough to silence the groan threatening to puncture its way through. She holds nothing back and her moans, a tune of her own making remind me of my renewed need pulsing between my thighs. I can't keep from congratulating myself enough that I had scored big time when I married this woman!

"Fuuuuuck..." I hear myself groaning painfully under my breath, squeezing the head of my erection. "Damn, baby. Get your ass over here."

"Looks to me like you enjoyed the show," she says saucily as she climbs on my lap, straddling me. The scent of her arousal hits me and all I can think about now is how steamy hot she must feel, how in one second I'm going to be balls deep inside of her.

I hiss as I run my tip over her damp center loving the moisture there. Press up against her. "You're not through yet, sweetheart. I'm not done with you yet." That was a promise.

We both let out a trill as I grip her hips and yank her down over me. Her back arches, her mouth opens in a sensual O as she adjusts to my girth. Time stills and passes. America leans into me, a hand gently cupping my face, my hands caressing her back... and we begin to move methodically slow, taking each other, filling and gripping every inch of sex we share. And the slow motion is mind blowing as we make love... on my throne. She rises and sinks over me, taking her time devouring me.

We kiss softly, our gazes burning into the other, sharing one breath. "I love you," she says it against my lips. My ears swallow the words and like roots they burrow and anchor themselves in my heart. There is no one else but her, so much trust between us, so much of our souls open in this act that I want to stay in it with her forever.

In this intimacy where only we exist, our bodies race towards each other. The gentleness is short-lived for soon it's replaced with a tempest that untetheres us both. Our movements are harder, our bodies coiled like springs readied for release, reaching out for that something in the distance we've tasted together. Only between us.

We are nothing but hands, mouths, a tangle of tongues and a joined entity as we forget ourselves completely in this moment, drunk on love, delirious. America works feverishly to rid me of my shirt, the last bit of clothing separating our bodies but once I'm relieved of it her heated skin presses against my chest. Those lovely breasts flatten against me and I slip my hands between us to fondle them as she rides me. My hands don't stay still for long as they slide down her back to secure the swells of her ass, lifting and lowering her over my hungering erection. Faster. Harder. It wants more. _I_ want more!

There's a wild aura around us raw, titillating and it's perhaps the feeling of being unconquerable that shuts the world and everyone in it outside from every thought.

"Maxon, Maxon," America sings my name over and over, her hands gripping my short hair, my mouth latched onto a nipple. "I can't... I can't believe we're doing this...here...on your throne..." Her words are a mix of pants and her lips are dressed in a smile.

"It's good to be the King," I murmur and her laugh is sexy as hell.

"Yes, it is. And you are my King...mine... god.. all mine."

America rocks back and forth hungrily taking all of me. We stare into each other's eyes as we push together towards that place of blissful delight.

We reverse positions as once again she straddles me. With her back pressed against my chest she rides me more insistent now, there is no other sound but our uttered grunts and the sound of flesh against flesh all around us. My finger finds her button. I rub it, press it firmly against her because I know that's all it takes to set her off. America cries as her body convulses, her legs quivering against my thighs, her velvet walls rippling around me.

I fight against my climax seeking to push her onward to bliss with my words, with my fingers, with my body as I hit her back wall repeatedly. Her back bows as if she's being seized, broken in half and then... she shatters around me. I wrap a hand around her throat as she comes all over me and whisper the dirty things she likes to hear when she's so full of me.

Once her breathing eases and her body quiets enough, I take what she owes me.

I order her to get up on my throne, kneeling on the seat, her backside prone to me. I tell her she's been a naughty girl because she's done so many naughty things tonight and slap her ass a few times. I know she likes it because she cries out for more, begging my royal pardon.

I lean over her. "You want the king's pardon?" I whisper in her ear, my right hand wrapped around her throat.

"Yessss, Your Majesty. I beg of you."

"You'll need to work for it... my queen," I utter with dark intent. I pull back and I can feel her body humming with an edge of sharp excitement.

Because she lives for this.

I swat her milky ass once for good measure and she whimpers. I can see the response from her body. The ripples of impact reverberate through her. Suddenly she lets out a strangled cry. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the high back of my throne. She's climaxing.

That image will be burned in my mind forever. I'll never look at my throne the same again. I get harder thinking about it.

My hands clamp down on her ass. I want to see my fingerprints on her so I squeeze, biting into her flesh. I take a step back, double at my waist, my face at eye level with her voluptous ass; my mouth inches away from her dripping pussy. I only got a small finger sampling of her earlier but now I'm ready to devour her whole. And I do.

America's pussy succumbs to my mouth and tongue and fingers until she hits another air shattering orgasm.

"There's only one way you'll get that pardon," I whisper in her ear at the very moment I penetrate her in one full thrust... from behind... with every inch of me. She gasps and whimpers at my invasion. I hiss in response. "You want the king's pardon? You know what to do." I speak into the shell of her ear through gritted teeth, reveling in the feel of her tight walls. She feels amazing. America holds on to the back of my throne as I pound her from behind. I inwardly thank whoever had the forethought to anchor the damn thing to the dais so there's no need to hold back, my hips driving into her with full force. Her ass shakes with every clash against me and I slap that sweet ass a few more times loving the sound it echoes from my hands.

"Please, forgive me! Please, Your Majesty! My king! she cries. _"Please...ohhh...pleeeease!"_

I don't answer. I've given up speaking as I swell in response to her cries, her pleas. I have no witty comebacks or remarks. My thoughts are incoherent and non-existent. There's only one thought occupying my mind and it's centered on the head of my lower region. And as if in answer to my body's own pleas, the next sounds she pulls out of me are affirmation that she will receive her pardon. I dig my fingers into her hips as I surge, bury myself deep in her channel. That primal grunt of blinding ecstasy rips loud from my throat. Every part of me centers on my pulsating shaft as I flood her sweet, silken chamber with my seed.

We are both sucking air, sweat beading our bodies. I kiss her back, the track of her spine and she moans and sighs.

"Thank you," I sigh against her back, catching my breath. "Thank you."

She looks over her shoulder and we kiss, gently, tasting each other as if it were our first kiss.

"Did I gain my pardon, my king?" she quips.

"A lifetime's worth."

"Wow. Am I so deserving of such a magnanamous gesture?"

"So fucking deserving."

She laughs. "Was it everything you wished?"

"Better."

"Oooohh...I was good, wasn't I?"

"Baby, you make all my fantasies a reality." I admit, feeling my softened member slip out of her.

"Yes. I do."

"Naughty girl."

"Only for you, my king."

* * *

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	22. My Life, My Love, My Way - Part I

**Author's Notes:**

 **Maxon's boyish innocence is slowly fading as the Selection progresses. As his attachment to America grows he begins to discover a new part of himself he'd never been given a chance to explore. As new feelings are triggered how does our Prince respond? Maxon invites us to take a trip down memory lane as he shares with us his POV from those moments in** ** _"The Elite"_** **that had us soaring with hope one second and then gasping desperately for our next breath!**

 **In this chapter -**

 **Halloween had been a celebration long lost to the nation of Illéa. A random question and secrets forbidden set in motion some of the most memorable, angst-filled and volatile periods in the budding romance between Maxon and America.**

 **This Bedtime Story was inspired by one of the most intuitive readers of this series I've ever had the pleasure of chatting with, Bibabugs. Thank you for your invaluable input, Biba! This has really grown into a monster!**

 **This is also for you readers who wanted the sweet without so much spice but of course, what would a Bedtime Story be without a little sexy, right?**

 **Disclaimer: All characters and book quotes belong to Kiera Cass!**

 ** _WARNING!_** ** _Hot to start followed by sweet, tender moments that'll make you sigh with a touch of sexy!_**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 _ **"My Life, My Love, My Way"**_

 **"It's the most wonderful and terrible thing that can ever happen to you. You know that you've found something amazing, and you want to hold on to it forever; and every second after you have it, you fear the moment you might lose it."**

 **~ Lucy** _ **(The Elite)**_

 **Part I**

 _ **~ Maxon**_

"Happy Halloween!" I'd bellowed in dramatic fashion from the grand stairwell of the Great Room to loud cheers and champagne glasses lifted high above heads. My beautiful wife stood by my side, her hand tucked in the crook of my arm smiling and waving with queenly grace at her adoring masses.

Adoring because they loved her.

Yet, no one could love her the way I loved her.

We'd left the party early, the music still blaring to the room full of costumed guests abuzz with mirth and with food and drink.

Our costumes, bundles of fabrics and colors now laid strewn across our bedroom floor. We'd shed them impatiently, hands all over each other as we fell through our bedroom door. I had pinned America against it, my hands firm on her hips giving her the pleasure of feeling how hard she'd made me.

She laughed against my mouth, "Someone's excited."

I flashed a wolfish grin, shutting that sassy mouth when her bottom lip found its way between my teeth, drawn by my lips to suck and tease. A reminder of what I was going to do once I got between her thighs. She moaned deliciously just to have me silence her a second later with a full kiss. I crushed my body against hers, pressing her further into the door, kissing her with demand. The message had been delivered loud and clear. I was Danger tonight and she was about to enter my zone. Her small hands pushed against my chest and I stumbled back a few steps, granting her the satisfaction of victory, albeit temporary as it was. Her smoky eyes told me she was up for the challenge. Well, we'd see about that.

I yanked her by the wrist as I slammed the door of our dimly lit bedroom shut with a loud bang. She gasped as I held her to me. Hard muscle pressed against feminine softness. The space between us, around us crackled as we stared at each other with unbridled lust.

"I've been wanting to fuck you all night." I said, my voice low and lethal.

"Then..." She whispered, running her hands over my chest, "I suggest you stop talking."

Shit. Her sass made me harder and my arms tightened around her lithe body.

I had given her fair warning so I couldn't be held responsible for what was coming her way. Yes, pun definitely intended. Without further words needing to be spoken, my hand curved around the back of her neck pulling her mouth to mine. She gave in to my command, fingernails digging into my shoulders through my shirt. Feeling her desperation only raised my excitement. I loved it when America got this hot for me.

Fingers began unsnapping buttons, sliding zippers free as we kissed and bit and moaned into each other. Layers of clothing fell away like leaves from an autumn tree. A feral grin parted my mouth at the renting sound of fabric from her delicate chemise; the garment now in two halves fell useless at our feet seconds later when I ripped it from her body revealing those pink tipped ivory breasts I immediately began to devour.

She gasped in surprise then laughed cradling my head to her breasts as I sucked and nipped and tortured her. I hoisted her by the backs of her thighs spreading her legs over my hips. The tip of my hardness grazed her wet core now moist with her arousal, seeking to delve deep into that silken blanket of heat.

We kissed feverishly, her fingers curled around my hair, tugging, her hips nudging, begging for us to be joined, for me to claim however I wished.

We tumbled together down unto our lover's bed. The full harvest moon stood silent outside our window, bathing our room with its autumn glow.

We made love, mad, passionate and dirty under its watch. Not once or twice but thrice until exhaustion claimed her. I had tasted every patch of skin, left no part of her untouched or unexplored. She consumed me as she'd always had and I unleashed myself at her bidding.

Her breaths were now quiet and rhythmic so unlike the ones I had enjoyed dragging from her earlier amidst the throes of her climax. She laid naked next to me, head on my chest, a hand spread over my right pectoral tucked under my bigger hand. I curled my fingers around her limp hand, bringing it to my lips. A ghost of a smile spread across her mouth but she didn't wake.

I remembered thinking how foreign the word wife felt before the Selection started. I had a duty to my country to choose a wife, the next princess. But I wanted someone to love me in the process, not just my crown. And I'd been lucky enough to have found her. Through all the ups and downs, bumps and bruises, highlights and lowlights we had found our way to each other; made it... together.

America had brought so much into my life. So much I couldn't imagine living without. And as she lay in my arms, my one heart, my soulmate, I couldn't help to recall the journey that had brought us here, to our second All Hallow's Eve celebration.

* * *

 _ **One year ago ~**_

It all started with a simple question.

"What's Halloween?" America had asked me in challenge after I'd unwittingly boasted I had at my disposal, access to answers to a thousand questions. I was nineteen and like a fucking peacock felt the need to show off.

With an arched eyebrow cocked at me, "Do you really have the answers to a thousand questions?"

Ouch. My pride took a little hit there so refuting her obvious skepticism, "Absolutely," I replied, brimming with confidence. "Ask me anything; And if I don't know the answer I know where we can find it."

"Anything?"

"Anything." I assured without hesitation.

I didn't speak as freely to the other girls. Not to Marlee or Kriss. Definitely not to Celeste. Not because I couldn't. I just didn't feel inclined to. Things were different with America. From that night we first met it felt as if the cosmos had perfectly aligned our paths to cross. Not that I was superstitious. Yet we had this connection I couldn't deny. She was smart, witty and a bit sassy. I liked that. Liked her. After I had narrowed things down to the Elite, my feelings for her were obvious. But America was still unsure she could be mine.

I guessed a part of me wished to impress her too, hence, peacock feathers. America hadn't been taken in by all the riches and glamour of the palace… of me. But, a part of me wanted her to see there was much more to me than a guy stuck in this competition looking for a wife. I was more than just a Prince. More than a crown. I was Maxon. I could be someone she could come to love and be happy with if she'd give _us_ a chance.

Her question stumped me. I didn't know what Halloween was. To wipe that little smirk of satisfaction lining that pretty mouth, I grabbed her by the hand and we were off.

Hand in hand we ran down the main hall like two teenagers headed for mischief. The grin I wore making my cheeks ache, gave away my own excitement as we passed guards and servants on the way to one of the palace's secret libraries to get an answer to whatever Halloween was.

While I felt hedged in with the others, never really letting go of my role as the prince as I appraised and assessed our compatibility, it was really freedom I felt whenever I was around America. She made me feel things I had never felt before– like how loud my heart thumped within my chest, threatening to snap a rib whenever I saw her. The way I couldn't help but want to spend every free moment I had in her company. The way her voice still echoed in my head even hours after we had parted ways. The feel of her calluses brushing against my palms– those little imperfections that made her absolutely perfect.

I knew for a certainty that this girl that challenged and pushed and frustrated me was the one I wanted. Now only if I could convince her of that.

Upon reaching our destination I said, "You have to swear never to reveal this little chamber. Only a few members of the family and a handful of the guards know it exists."

"Absolutely," she agreed. I could see the spark of intrigue in those beautiful eyes. My heart did that thumping thing again and a surge of adrenaline coursed through me. The hit was like a high because in truth, I was becoming rather addicted to America.

Making sure we were alone, I reached behind the frame of the massive painting nearly covering the wall, releasing the secret latch. I grinned when she gasped as the painting swung gently towards us.

If feeling like a bad ass in the mold of 007 doesn't give a guy some serious wood at that sort of reaction he must either be in a coma or six feet under. Well, I was neither and oh yes, she was very impressed. Score! For team Me.

Turning the handle to the door, I helped her inside and the look on her face was nothing but priceless. I couldn't image the thoughts going through her mind as her eyes swept slowly over the shelves of old books; around the windowless vault that held so many secrets.

"What do the red slashes mean?" she asked with a hint of wonder, noting the books on the two shelves with red markings on their bindings.

"Those are banned books. As far as we know, they may be the only copies that still exist in all of Illéa."

Then it happened. She looked at me with those eyes, the ones that I realized I kept losing myself into every time, sparking with curiosity, asking me without a word, for permission...

"Yes, you can look at them," I responded as if her request was putting me out but deep inside I wanted her to ask.

She reached for one of the books, handling it with gentle care. I stood there staring at her like an idiot imagining our days like this. Stuck in a hidden library, just the two of us reading books. It was a silly thought but a hopeful one. I shook it off quickly and moved over to the computer typing the word _"Halloween"_ on the keyboard.

"What's that?" I heard her ask from behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, "A computer. Have you never seen one?" Surprise was the last thing I felt when she shook her head. "Not many people have them anymore. This one is specifically for the information held in this room. If anything about your Halloween exists, this will tell us where it is."

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised at the amount of information archived in this system. Within seconds a three bullet list appeared on the screen. I'd always been able to find just about anything here. From tips on photography, to my own family history. I often wondered who was the unlucky person assigned to input all this stuff.

Retrieving the three books that had some sort of information on what Halloween was I settled them on the table next to some other books that were already there.

I handed the first one to her and once she'd turned to the referenced page, scanning the words said, "Here is something." My curiosity piqued as I grasped the edges to the table and leaned into it.

"It says, Halloween is a Celtic festival that marked the end of summer. It was believed that spirits passed in and out of the world on Halloween, and people would put on masks to ward off the evil ones. Later, it evolved into a secular holiday, mainly for children. They dressed up in costumes and went around with candy, creating the saying "trick or treat," as they did a trick to get a treat." She looked over to me with a smile. "That sounded like fun but," turning her eyes back to the page, "It doesn't say why we don't celebrate it any longer."

"Maybe the next book will tell us?" I offered. That one however, defined Halloween as something similar only it added information about pumpkins and Christianity.

I reached for the third and final book in our small stash knowing exactly what I held in my hand. "This will be the interesting one." I flipped through the pages of the book, thinner than the other two and handwritten as she looked up at me once again with big, curious blue eyes. I felt myself drowning in them. I didn't want to put a name to what I felt. Wasn't sure I could.

She rounded the table, breaking the spell to stand next to me, eyes glued to the book, asking, "How so?" The fragrant scent of vanilla that I had come to associate as uniquely hers, wafted up my nostrils and I instinctively turned my face into her hair. I couldn't help but breathe her in. I'm glad she didn't notice.

I reined my senses, refocusing on the task at hand. "This, Lady America, is one of the volumes of Gregory Illéa's personal diaries."

Her eyes widened. "What?" she exclaimed. "Can I touch it?"

Score! Two points for team, Me.

"Let me find the page we're searching for first." I said as if holding this book was really no big deal when it was quite the opposite indeed. Once I got to the page, "Look, it even has a picture!" I sounded like an excited teenage girl, I groaned a bit inside. Act like you've been there before buddy, I scolded myself. Honestly, I had never taken the time to read any of Gregory's diaries. I supposed I should've at least been a bit more curious about the founder of our nation but really, what more could I learn that hadn't been already taught me from my many tutors?

It was the first time that I really took in the dynamics of my predecessor. The photo was formal. No expressions of joy or genuine happiness could I see in either of the adult faces. Gregory stood tall in a crisp, tailored suit, a rigid smile on his face. The woman next to him attempted a half-hearted smile but it didn't reach her eyes. Three figures surrounded them. A teenage girl, quite pretty, smiling widely and wearing some sort of crown and a frilly gown. I suppose this was her costume? The other two figures were males, one taller by a hair's breath than the other, both dressed as comic book superheroes. One I guessed was Superman by the "S" on his chest. The other, Batman. I knew those characters because I had watched some of the movies. Cool.

We both fell silent as we read the entry, written in Gregory Illea's own hand:

 _THE CHILDREN CELEBRATED HALLOWEEN THIS YEAR WITH A PARTY. I SUPPOSE IT'S ONE WAY_  
 _TO FORGET WHAT'S GOING ON AROUND THEM. BUT TO ME IT FEELS FRIVOLOUS._  
 _WE'RE ONE OF THE FEW FAMILIES REMAINING WHO HAVE ENOUGH TO DO SOMETHING FESTIVE._  
 _BUT THIS CHILD'S PLAY SEEMS WASTEFUL._

"Do you think that's why we don't celebrate anymore? Because it's wasteful?" America looked at me as if I had the magic key to unlock such a secret. I didn't but that look, that look in her eyes, so vibrant and hopeful made me feel as if I wanted to unlock every secret ever told, ever hidden, just for her.

I scrambled for something intelligent to say. "Could be. If the date's any indication," I nodded to the scribbled month and year, "this was right after the American State of China started fighting back, just before the Fourth World War." Way to kill a moment, Schreave! I groaned inwardly. Talk history with the girl you're trying to impress; yeah... that'll get you far. I pushed through, trying to salvage this misstep with some sort of interesting kernel to my history lesson. "At that point, most people had nothing– picture an entire nation of Sevens with a handful of Twos."

Her eyes widened as the image of what I had painted no doubt appeared before her. "Wow," she said thoughtful. Relief spread through me. I guess I wasn't an absolute lost cause. _Note to self:_ No more history lessons.

"How many more diaries are there?"

I pointed to a shelf with a row of journals similar to the one in our possession. "About a dozen or so," I replied, doing a quick count.

Her awe filled the room. I could feel it all around me. In that instant my world expanded. All the knowledge stored in this room I had taken for granted. But to see the look of amazement on America's face made me wonder why was this kept for the privileged like me? Why not share it?

Before my mind ran off into other arenas, "Thank you," she said, catching my attention. Her words, so sincere, touched me. I curled my fingers into my palms. It was all I could do to keep from touching her. "This is something I would never have dreamed of seeing. I can't believe all this exists."

I couldn't contain the joy I felt through the smile etched on my face, shooting through my eyeballs. Every piece of me felt alive as if THIS moment defined something important between us. That perhaps this connection we had, this living thing that kept growing was something special since honestly, I didn't feel it with any of the other girls. And maybe that's what I clung to when I motioned to the diary, handing it to her. "Would you like to read the rest of it?"

I admit– This wasn't one of my brightest moments but can you blame me? I was a guy falling in love for the first time! My heart had taken the reins of reason and I trusted America. She not only was the girl I was falling for but also my closest friend. Who better to share your secrets with, right? There were so many things I wanted to share with America it almost felt like a dam ready to burst.

America fairly leapt at my offer, practically shouting, "Yes, of course!" And her response triggered that male pride in me. I couldn't help smiling inwardly as she took back control of her emotions. "But I can't stay," she added. "I have to finish studying that terrible report. And you have to get back to work."

That little reminder at the end made it feel as if we were an item. I had to calm my insides down. Putting the cart before the horse was never a good thing. But, today gave me hope.

"True. Well, how about this? You can take the book and keep it for a few days."

"Am I allowed to do that?" She asked, awed.

"No." I smiled.

She seemed hesitant and I wished to have the ability as I did on so many occasions, to read what exactly was going on in that head of hers.

A part of me was relieved when she took me up on my offer. "Okay. Just a night or two then I'll give it straight back."

"Hide it well," I reminded. I was handing her my trust. And yet, this feeling of vulnerability frightened me. I supposed this is what they meant by taking a leap of faith. Trust was key.

"I will." So much meaning behind two small words. "Thank you, Maxon."

America cradled the book to her chest as we exited the library and along with it she'd taken a piece of me I didn't think she herself knew she possessed.

The rest of the day was nothing but a blur. I found it extremely difficult to focus on anything but America and our visit to the library. I could tell my father noticed my indifference as I sat through the last two meetings of the day, doodling on my notepad. An advisor, Stavros was his name, saved me from my father ripping me a new asshole by jesting I had more serious matters on my mind, "Six very lovely ladies, no doubt." I wasn't sure if I should thank the man or crawl under the boardroom table from sheer embarrassment.

He wasn't far off from the truth but he was way off base in respects to the number since there was only one girl lingering and occupying my thoughts. And her question about Halloween sparked an idea fueled by my wanting, no... _needing_ her to see me as her choice just as she was so clearly becoming mine with each passing day.

The idea had hit me like a shoe upside the head! It was a crazy idea but... if I could pull this off, America would see there would be nothing in this world that I wouldn't give her; do for her because I was going to throw the first Halloween party in decades!

* * *

I spent that evening coming up with a plan. It couldn't be just a palace function. The royals were already looked upon as living to excess so to throw such an exclusive party? No. It might give fodder to our enemies and we had enough of those.

Gregory had mentioned in his diary that during his time, his family had been one of a handful with enough means to celebrate Halloween. Well, that wasn't the case any longer. As self-serving as this idea was, I thought, why not include the masses in this celebration? We could encourage all Illéans to celebrate Halloween. My father couldn't object to that. He lived for public adoration. And it would give people another reason to feel a deeper connection to the Selection. A sense of unity.

I gave myself a mental high-five.

Now, how the hell was I going to convince my father of this?

I spent the rest of the following day prepping my approach to present the Halloween idea to my father. This wasn't going to be a walk in the park. My father's fuse seemed shorter and shorter these days. Nevertheless determination spurred me on. Or was it my foolish heart? No matter. I was doing this for the girl I wanted to impress above all. America.

After dinner that evening as my family and I along with the Selected stood to leave the Dining Room, America shot me our secret signal. She tugged her ear. Something about that sent a thrill through me. She was asking for time with me. Asking! I felt like a bastard turning her down. "Work," I mouthed, hoping she could read my disappointment but if I didn't take care of this business tonight this party might not happen at all. I had a lot of logistics to consider. She threw me a little pout which made me wish I could kiss it away and replace it with that stunning smile that belonged just to her.

She left with a simple little wave and I groaned inwardly as I stormed off frustrated in more ways than one to my bedroom to shore up my plans.

* * *

The _Report_ couldn't have ended sooner for me. I'd been anxious sitting there the entire time while fighting to keep my focus on the presentations the girls were giving. As soon as I had the opportunity I bolted to America's room.

I had a nice little speech prepared for my father but I also had to be sure that this was something America was on board with. She seemed pretty excited about the whole Halloween thing but she could also think it was a bad idea. Nah, it was a great idea! _It's all in the presentation, Maxon!_

Standing outside her door, I knocked three times then opened, entering without so much as an invitation. "I had a thought," I announced.

"Your Majesty." The chorus of female voices alerted me that not only was America not alone but I had taken liberties that perhaps no real gentleman would. What if she'd been in a state of undress? I felt my face heat just then. Not that I would've minded much but as far as America was concerned, we were only friends so it wasn't as if I were there for other reasons, right?

One of her maids dropped what looked like hairpins she'd been holding as she sank into a curtsy. I neared, dropping to a knee to help the maid retrieve the lost hairpins but she insisted, "It's all right." Quickly picking them up she gave the other two maids _"the look"._ A second later dismissing themselves rather awkwardly, they were gone, leaving America and me alone.

We both roared at their antics. America swiveled back to the mirror at the vanity where she sat and continued to work on the pins in her hair.

I didn't want to stare so I said looking back to the door, "They're a funny lot."

"It's just that they admire you so much."

I was embarrassed by the comment and waived it away as I stood, walking over to stand behind her. "Sorry I interrupted," I said to her reflection.

"It's fine," she answered, tugging at the last pin in her hair. I was mesmerized as the heavy locks tumbled down, as she ran her fingers through the flames of red, draping them over a shoulder. I imagined my fingers raking through those red locks. What would the texture feel like? Like silken threads, no doubt. What would it feel like wrapped around my hand? Good God! I had to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.

"Do I look okay?"

The room was suddenly quite warm and there was a stirring in my groin. I nodded dumbly, staring at her as she stared back through her reflection, doing my best to hide the desires welling up inside of me. _Shit._ Not a good time to show off, buddy! I chided my insistent cock who was having a hell of a time listening! Get a grip, Maxon!

I willed myself to focus. "Anyway, this idea..."

"Do tell."

"You remember the Halloween thing?"

"Yes. Oh, I still haven't read the diary," she confessed. "It's well hidden though."

"It's fine. No one's looking for it. Anyway, I was thinking. All those books said it fell in October, right?"

"Yes."

"It's October now. Why don't we have a Halloween party?"

She spun around, her eyes wide and bright. "Really? Maxon, could we?"

My heart thumped and I wondered if she could hear it. "Would you like that?"

"I would love it!" America beamed.

Her enthusiasm was infectious. I pumped an imaginary fist at her reaction. Personally, I hadn't felt this excited about anything in a long time. America affected me in a way no other had. I was being consumed by this girl brimming with happiness before me. A fire had ignited my soul making my blood heat and roar at these new sensations she stirred in me. This molten heat spread through every part of me but I maintained my cool.

"I figure all the Selected girls could have costumes made. The off-duty guards could be spare dance partners since there's only one of me and it would be unfair to make everyone stand around waiting for a turn." I added that bit to make it sound more like _official business._ "And we could do dancing lessons over the next week or two. You did say there wasn't much to do during the days sometimes. And candy! We'll have the best candies made an imported." Yes, I had all the bases covered. "You, my dear, will be stuffed by the end of the night. We'll have to roll you off the floor."

She sat there silent, looking at me... I hoped this was a good sign? I pressed on.

"And we'll make an announcement, tell the entire county to celebrate. Let the children dress up and go door-to-door doing tricks, like they used to. Your sister would love that, yes?" ALL. THE. BASES.

America cried, "Of course she will! _Everyone_ will!"

Then another idea struck me (I happened to be full of them lately) and before I could stop myself, "How do you think she would like celebrating here, at the palace?"

Her mouth hung open. "What?"

I was surprised I hadn't thought it sooner. This would be the perfect reason to convince my father!

"At some point in the competition, I'm supposed to meet the parents of the Elite. Might as well have siblings come and do this around a festive time as opposed to waiting–"

Her body barreled into my arms cutting off my thoughts. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her waist. She was the perfect fit and my heart pitched forth, like something starved, greedily seeking more of what she gave. We stared at each other– her eyes shone and she'd never looked at me the way she was looking at me now and I knew she could see straight through to the hidden parts of me. My heart tripped and joy, pure joy wrapped her arms around me. Is this what falling in love felt like?

"Do you mean it? Can they really come?"

"Of course." Yes, I know. I was digging a shit hole bigger than the size of Carolina for myself but I was committed now. This plan was a Go! "I've been longing to meet them, and it's part of the competition. Anyway, I think it would do all of you good to see your families." Again, making it feel _official._

There was a shine in her eyes, what seemed like tears but she fought them back. "Thank you." Those whispered words sent shivers through my body. I wanted to pull her closer. Kiss her. Convince her that this could be the beginning of our future. If she'd trust it to be.

I swallowed my desire to tell her that. "You're welcome," I said instead. "I know you love them."

"I do."

They weren't exactly the words I was hoping for. A lance of disappointment speared me just then and in an attempt to hide it, I chuckled. "And it's clear you'd do practically anything for them." I said the words out loud to remind myself again that her reaction wasn't about me or because she had any semblance of romantic feelings towards me. I was the one weaving this fairy tale in my mind. And I had to slow it down. But either way, I couldn't help my disappointment. "After all," I added, "you stayed in the Selection for them." _Not for you, Maxon._

She jerked back. Our eyes met and suddenly I felt as if I'd said the wrong thing. I wasn't judging her for her decision to stay. It was just the reality of where things stood between us. America was still holding me off although I had revealed my true feelings for her. I told her I liked her. If she could only commit to me, care for me the way I cared for her this competition would be over.

"Maxon, they were part of the reason I stayed in the beginning, but they're not why I'm here now. You know that right?"

Did I? No. I couldn't rightly say I did.

"I'm here because..."

I hung on her every word. Hoping. Wishing. She stood there in silence.

Okay. I didn't care about losing my man card right then, so I fished, "Because?"

She kept looking at me as if there was something she wanted to tell me but was holding back.

"Because?" I asked again, giving her a smile. Is this what guys were turned into? Complete mush? Now I understood.

Instead of throwing me any kind of bone, she threw me a smile, a flirtatious smile at that and slowly started towards the door.

Oh...hell, no.

"America Singer, you get back here." I ran in front of her, wrapping an arm around her waist. It felt so natural to do that. To hold her as if she really belonged to me. We stood chest to chest and I whispered, "Tell me."

She was a hard nut to crack, defiantly pinching her lips together.

Well then, if she was bringing her arsenal, I was bringing mine to this battle too. "Fine, then I shall have to rely on other means of communication."

Before I had a second thought or any thought, my lips were pressed against hers. My eyes fell close as the softness of her mouth touched mine over and over. To my surprise, I wasn't just kissing her. She was kissing me back! And goddamn if it didn't feel so right. Driven by some primal instinct, my tongue brushed against her lips. And granting my silent request, she opened to me.

My hands fanned her back, pulling her closer. The softness of her sweet tongue caressed mine. Every muscle in my body hardened. My arms cradled her as I dipped her backwards, leaning into her, deepening the kiss, losing myself in it. I held America against my body, feeling the swells of her breasts against my chest. Ripples and waves of pleasure coursed through my body as her fingers curled around my neck, holding me to her. I felt alive as I'd never felt before and something dormant inside me opened an eye and was awakened. A feeling– a desperation of need to keep her this close. To feel and explore and savor. And I wasn't alone. We were both THERE. In this moment. I could sense it. This kiss wasn't like our first kiss. This meant more. This was sensual, intimate, linked to a hundred possibilities.

But then something happened. America started to cry.

"Darling, what's wrong?" I looked at her, confused. Tears were falling from her eyes. They tore at me. All I wanted to do was make her smile at me again. Damn, did I really just screw everything up?

"I don't want to leave this."

I smiled, again trying not to raise my hopes. _It was a kiss, Maxon. She hadn't confessed loving you._ "If I remember correctly, the first time we met, you said it was like a cage. It does grow on you, though, doesn't it?"

America gave me a small shake of her head. "Sometimes you can be so stupid." My brow crinkled slightly but soon was wiped away as she gave me a weak laugh. Then, she pulled away just enough to look at me.

"Not the palace, Maxon. I could care less about the clothes or my bed or, believe it or not, the food."

I couldn't help to laugh at that. I remembered how she raved about the food.

She continued, "It's you. I don't want to leave you."

Her words like an explosion boomed in my ears. WTF?!

"Me?"

She nodded. It felt as if the universe had stopped spinning at that very moment... just to listen.

The look of shock no doubt plainly etched my face because... WTF?! "You want me?" I asked, dumbfounded, loosing a breath.

America giggled. "That's what I'm saying."

"How–But–What did I do?" I know. I sounded like an absolute moron.

Time. Time had been my rival since the day we met. America kept insisting she needed more of it and even as feelings between us evolved, even as my own grew into affection, I continued to assure her she'd have it. I knew there were equations and strategies to these sort of things... to capture your girl's heart, to win her but... this? Unexpected. So unexpected. Time could be a cruel prankster.

America smiled and replied with an enthusiastic shrug. "I don't know. I just think we'd be a good us."

I wanted to pinch myself. Did she just say she'd think _'We'd make a good us'?_

A slow smile crept across my lips. I corrected, "We'd be a wonderful us."

And holy shit as if the world had granted me my every wish, I pulled her, my heart, into me and didn't hold back. Not this time. I kissed America with a passion I didn't know I possessed. And I could swear that goosebumps bloomed from the crown of my head straight down to my tingling toes as we melded together– lips and tongues, tasting each other. This was it. This was really it. My open hands swept across her back, down the buttons of her dress. Thoughts of her and me; fantasies I had in the past few days tempered, came bursting forth. Her fingers dug into my shoulders and I heard myself let out a small growl. Where did that come from?

I slowly broke the kiss, my heart overflowed with happiness. I had to hear her say it again. "Are you sure?" I stared at her intently, hoping that what we'd just shared hadn't been a dream. "Are you absolutely positive?" I asked, holding her a little closer, afraid that she'd suddenly regret her confession.

"If you're sure, I'm sure."

For a split second the face of my father flashed before me. I swatted the angered scowl away. No. This was _my_ choice. America was my choice.

I was too stunned for words. This was what I'd been waiting for all of this time. But I was too happy to spoil it.

I literally didn't feel the floor beneath my feet as we walked holding hands to her bed. Our fingers laced as we sat on the edge, her head resting comfortably on my shoulder. The only sound in my ears was the fierce beat of my heart as silence took residence between us. I welcomed it. I wanted to remember this as clearly twenty years down the line as I was today. My future was playing itself before me. Vivid pictures. My proposal. Our wedding day. Our wedding night. And so many other moments I couldn't picture them all but I felt them. I sighed long between each thought. My happiness finding the only expression I could offer.

I didn't give myself any points for sure as I stood to leave. My head was in a fog and lamely I told her I had to get back to see about the extra plans to accommodate the families now added to the celebration.

America held on to my hand as we walked to the door. I held on to hers just as tightly. This was so new and fresh between us and still felt truly unreal.

"I'll see you tomorrow." I promised in a whisper, our noses millimeters apart. I couldn't help to look upon her with genuine, heartfelt love. My darling. My heart.

"You're astonishing." Yes, you are, my America.

Her smile told me everything. This was the beginning of US.

 _ **~ End of Part I ~**_

* * *

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	23. My Life, My Love, My Way - Part II

**Author's Notes:**

 **Maxon's boyish innocence is slowly fading as the Selection progresses. As his attachment to America grows he begins to discover a new part of himself he'd never been given a chance to explore. As new feelings are triggered how does our Prince respond? Maxon invites us to take a trip down memory lane as he shares with us his POV from those moments in** ** _"The Elite"_** **that had us soaring with hope one second and then gasping desperately for our next breath!**

 **In this chapter -**

 **Throwing a Halloween party for America was all Maxon wanted. But, life as a prince wasn't a road paved without obstacles. How does Maxon handle the demands of his title and still manage to hold on to the girl he finds himself madly in love with? Or is it all an impossible dream?**

 **A huge thanks to my beta reader and wonderful collaborator, Bibabugs! You continue to inspire!**

 **Disclaimer: All characters and book quotes belong to Kiera Cass!**

 ** _WARNING!_** ** _Hot to start followed by sweet, tender moments that'll make you sigh with a touch of sexy!_**

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **~Sweetwaterspice**_

* * *

 _ **"My Life, My Love, My Way"**_

 **"You said that to get things right one of us would have to take a leap of faith.**  
 **I think I've discovered the canyon that must be leaped,**  
 **and I hope to find you waiting for me on the other side."**

 **~ Maxon**

 **Part II**

 _ **~ Maxon**_

America still slept soundly, a lean leg draped over my thigh hidden beneath the sheets. I nuzzled my nose into her fragrant hair, the scent so familiar yet equally exhilarating. Silken threads brushed my lips; their softness across my mouth like a mild aphrodisiac. To think there had been a time I fantasized about having her like this. Lonely nights that feel like a lifetime ago. This was my reality now. And I still couldn't believe what a lucky bastard I was.

I had the woman of my dreams asleep in my arms and I'd made love to her several times tonight. Me.

She'd bitten her lower lip making it bloom like a red rose as I hovered over her; flushed cheeks, pupils blown and a hot body screaming to be conquered by yours truly, aligned perfectly against my own. I lowered into open arms feeling the peaks of her nipples ghosting along my bare chest as she welcomed me, wrapping those arms lovingly around me. Her legs lay splayed against my hips and the bottom of a foot teased the hill of my calf.

"Make love to me, Maxon. Like you promised," she whispered, brushing her fingertips across my lips.

She had honed my being into a ball of desire and I groaned into her mouth, into a kiss that made every part of me burn with need. I never imagined it could be like this.

Her hands roamed my body, every sweeping caress giving me life, making me feel powerful and weak, making me keenly aware of what her touch did to me. I sucked in a breath, nearly overcome by my emotions and buried my face into her neck as I sank my body into hers.

"I love you," she said in my ear as her body accepted me.

"You're going to make me cum," I groaned through gritted teeth back in her ear, feeling the glorious heat of her body greet me, "before I even get started."

"Uhhh..." She whimpered as I pushed deeper. I loved that little sound. "I love it when you talk dirty."

I looked at her then with a crooked smirk, "Save your praises for what you truly love, sweetheart, when I make you cum all over my dick." I pushed... harder.

"Ohhh god," she gasped, back arching, chin tilting to the ceiling at my invasion and tightened those sweet walls around my cock. And when my teeth clamped around the line of her jaw the movement made her arch her bottom in time to meet my thrust. A whimper, this one a little louder made my blood roar. Her fingers dug into the muscles of my deltoids as my hips drove into her slowly, deliberately filling her, making her feel what she'd done to me, giving her a personal preview to the object that was going to make her quiver and shatter and holler my name tonight, over and over.

"Happy Halloween, baby." I grinned with wicked satisfaction as I moved inside of her.

"Devil."

"Just the way you like me, sweetheart."

Sheets rumpled around us as I took America, tipping her ass up with my hands to drive home. She was exquisite and I, thoroughly soaked with her arousal, losing my fucking mind as I pinned her to the mattress. The soft tap, tap, tap sounds of the headboard made a lovely accompaniment to her sexy little utterances.

I flipped her onto her stomach pushing her legs apart with my knees, teasing her with my hardened manhood along the line of her ass. Her small hands gripped the sheets when I entered from behind, "Uhhhh!" another little declaration that I'd hit her spot, her body prone under mine.

I hissed and breathed in her ear, pressing hot, sucking kisses along her neck, jaw, ear... mouth. I couldn't help but take a moment to admire the vantage point from back here as I raised my upper body, supporting myself on my arms; watching my pelvis meet the swells of her beautiful ass; loving that feminine dip of her lower back. I kissed between her shoulder blades, trailing up to the nape of her neck...

"You feel sooo good... sooo... ohhhh... don't stop... don't stop!"

Fuck. Yes.

The bed rocked harder.

And damn right, just as I'd predicted– that erogenous appendage of mine she couldn't get enough of? Specially serenaded.

Even in the aftermath of our lovemaking I could still feel the snug fit of her around me. The heavenly bliss of wet heat coiled around every inch of my cock as I pumped my seed deep inside of her.

America had ruined me. From that very night at our first Halloween I knew I would never be the same.

She owned every part of me. I knew it then and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

I ran a finger down the curvature of her shoulder.

"I can't believe you're really mine," I whispered to her even though I knew she couldn't hear me. "My love. You've made me a better man. You gave me courage when I didn't think I had any. Even when I stood in the eye of the storm, it was you that kept me grounded..."

* * *

 _ **~ One year ago...**_

"A Hallow-WHAT?!" My father looked up from whatever he read, gray steely eyes meeting mine, acknowledging my existence at last. I stood in his study before his massive desk where files stamped "Confidential" and a slew of ledgers and reports covered the polished surface.

"A Halloween party, father."

"I heard you the first time, Maxon." The deep groove in his brow was a distinct indication that he was already edgy and highly irritated. "Why the hell would we have such a thing?"

"Do you even know what it is?"

"Of course I do!" was his gruff reply as he chucked the papers aside. "Just another excuse for mindless indulgement and revelrie. Another frivolous celebration with absolutely no purpose but to waste time and resources." One breath before he asked, "But you haven't answered my question, son. Why?"

I stood there, shoulders squared, back straight as an arrow doing my best to speak with unwavering authority, the way he always commanded me to speak.

"Because it would be different from the parties the palace is known for and it wouldn't hurt giving the country something to celebrate. Something we haven't done in decades." I countered.

"There's a reason why such holidays were put to rest. They contributed to self-indulgent behavior the very thing we have fought to overcome as a people," he said, his temper like the mercury on a thermometer inching higher as he stood behind his desk.

Palms flat on the surface he leaned a bit forward. Eyes dark, like death, aimed at his only target. "You are the future king. You're supposed to be making a decision, Maxon. A serious one if you need me to keep reminding you, not wasting time throwing parties. It's another distraction you can't afford to make at this critical juncture. We're down to _six_ girls," his emphasis on six, "and the word is that people are getting antsy. They want an elimination. _I_ want an elimination!" He said, tone rising. "The faster we end this, the sooner we can move on with our lives."

 _Our lives?_ Didn't he mean, _my_ life?

Irritation grated me. Why was he always trying to control every damn part of my life?! "It's costumes and candy!" I declared, waving a hand. "How indulgent can that possibly be? The Southern nations have their carnivals," I gestured emphatically, "the French their Mardi Gras and they're just as properous as they've ever been. Why can't Illéa have something as festive? And besides, I think it would be the perfect opportunity for me to meet the parents of the Selected. It's a required part of the competition as I'm certain you're well aware."

Who the hell was this guy with the balls to stand toe to toe with the king? This wasn't like me. I was never forward, never spoke so animatedly to my father. He seemed to have the uncanny talent of squeezing the words in my throat with a viselike grip– always finding a way to stifle them by berating or knocking me down another notch. My ideas he'd ignored, my opinions swatted away like pesky flies and as far as making choices? I wasn't trusted enough to make good ones. Nevertheless, I was standing my ground on this. I had too much at stake. I didn't care how much of a tongue lashing I had to take to make this happen.

To his credit my father said nothing but the icy glares he was shooting at me spoke volumes. His eyes narrowed into two slits. "Why are you suddenly so interested in something this country hasn't celebrated in over a generation?" His hands balled into fists pressing them into the desk, papers crinkled beneath.

Because I'm putting my neck on the chopping block for the girl I want!

I shrugged. "It came up in a conversation."

"Let me guess." He stood straight crossing his arms over his chest, a smirk on his face. "With the Five." He spat the caste number as if it were venom.

"Her name is America."

"How did I know?!" He sounded exasperated and flung his arms before dropping them. "That one is always filling your head with wild ideas." He pinned me with his disapproval; an accusatory finger pointed. "I still can't fathom what advantage you see to keeping her around."

His accusation made me bristle inside. "Mother was a Four and you saw her worth." My mother entered the Selection with no alliances, no status, nothing worthy of making her a princess, she'd told me and yet she'd been _his_ choice. Hypocrite.

"That's because she was a rare gem in the midst of ordinary stones. She was _special_. You only get one shot at this, Maxon. There are no second chances. The future of Illéa, of all that _we_ , that our ancestors have built since Gregory Illéa took control of matters will one day rest in your hands. This is no time for infatuation."

Something passed my father's eyes, a thought he didn't care to share and I for once didn't give a rat's ass because I was fuming inside. I clenched my jaw. _'Never let them see you sweat, Maxon.'_ He'd drilled that into me as long ago as I could remember. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Even so, my body felt tight as a bowstring.

I stood, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind me. He sat, a judge ready to render judgment. The chair groaned under the bulk of muscle. Leaning back, he traced the seam of his lips with a finger, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes. He sat silent. Anticipation was choking me.

"I will give you this much, Maxon," he said at last, "As far as ideas, not what I was expecting from you but anything that can be done to speed this process along is worthwhile. You can have your party. I suppose having some sort of festivity wouldn't hurt. And I agree; let the parents join us. It will help with perception, yes?"

"Thank you," I managed to utter through the knot in my throat, my tone not betraying my relief. I hated feeling like some beggar. I was his son!

"But..."

Yes, I was ready for a list of those and yet I stiffened.

"One of these girls will be eliminated. This is not an option. It is not a suggestion. It is a requisite. Are we understood?"

I was about to reply when he held up a hand. "I'm not finished. You may think I don't understand your position, son. But let me assure you, I understand it perfectly well. If you wish to have a little fun with this girl, you have the liberty of doing as much, being as you are, the crowned prince. You have my blessing," he gestured with a hand. "There's no shame in gaining a bit of experience." Was he serious? Was that what he'd done during his Selection? I wasnt sure what to think.

"Don't look so shocked, Maxon. You may find that these sorts of arrangements can prove quite beneficial," he chuckled no doubt at the scowl on my face and at his impression of my naïvete.

"Make sure you meet with Dr. Ashlar first. For a tonic. We wouldn't want any... surprises."

I didn't know how to respond so I said nothing, keeping my jaws clenched. Heat flared up my neck. Sex had never been a topic discussed between us. To have him address it in such a crude manner made me feel small. He didn't seem to notice my discomfort. Not that he would've cared either way.

"That being said," he continued, "I will not allow your infatuation with one girl to lead to the biggest mistake you'll ever make. How you choose who is sent home, I'll leave up to you. I want an informed decision, Maxon. Be lucky I haven't pulled any strings thus far. Trust me, you don't want that."

I hit the gym.

I needed to punch something since I couldn't pummel my father's fucking face. I took it to the body bag instead, throwing my body into the movements, hitting until my hands ached, loving the thuds of fist against leather pounding with each grunt of my anger.

Drenched in sweat, I sat on one of the weight benches, forearms braced on my thighs. Breathing deep through my nose, each exhalation making me feel alive I relished the high of a good workout. It was a great stress reliever, I'd discovered. It centered me. I began unwrapping the tape from my hands, my mind a little clearer now.

My father had conditions. Always conditions. It was as if I lived under a perpetual anvil ready to fall on my head and crush my skull. But what had upset me more was what he'd insinuated about America. As if she were to mean nothing more than just a piece of ass. I was disgusted with him; disgusted with myself. I should've said something. Defended her. But I knew the sick games he played. He wanted me to show my hand. I would've made it too easy for him to manipulate things. I wouldn't give him the luxury. And realizing how close I was to getting her, I would need to speed things up.

My father was a complete ass. Why couldn't I just throw a damn party without having to feel his meddling hand? Well, he'd thrown down the gauntlet and I was forced to the challenge. I was going to give my father what he wanted but by the end of Halloween night, I was going to get what I wanted for me.

So, game on.

* * *

The other girls had received my announcement of the Halloween party at breakfast the next morning with as much giddy excitement as girls were prone to give for these sort of things, I supposed. By afternoon, there was a flurry of activity as I stepped into the hallway on the second floor where the Selected rooms were. Maids were coming in and out of rooms, carrying fabrics of different colors, textures and sewing baskets. It seemed all hands were on deck helping the Selected with their costumes.

I figured paying each of the girls a visit would appease my father's wishes for starters.

"Peacocks do have a regal way about them, don't you think?" Celeste asked, looping her arm around mine as she showed me the initial drawings and palette of her costume. Celeste, who always found an interesting way of showcasing her assets was aiming to impress with her avian themed costume. I don't think the girl was born with a shy bone in her body.

"They are beautiful. Quite flamboyant." That made her laugh.

"Have you ever noticed how a peacock struts about? I like to think of them as creatures not lacking in confidence. Like me," she smiled crookedly and leaned closer. Then in my ear whispered, "They make no secret of what they want. And go for it." My breath hitched as she slipped a hand beneath the lapel of my jacket and planted it over my chest. I wasn't comfortable with that at all but this was all part of the Selection. I had to put on the face of the bachelor prince.

A photographer was present and asked for a photo op. I obliged. I wasn't keen on the paparazzi but my father wanted exposure so they'd been allowed direct access... to my life. Lucky me.

"So you approve? she asked, behind that coquettish smile that had most men weak in the knees.

"I'm sure you'll be stunning, Celeste. Every head will be turned in your direction."

"I hope yours in particular."

I couldn't help but blush. Admittedly, Celeste was blessed with curves hard for any man to ignore. Myself included.

I survived my visit with Celeste and was glad that Elise and Kriss were much more reserved. At least they kept their hands to themselves.

My next stop was to see America. I had to strategize carefully. I couldn't make her my first visit because that would've been too obvious to my father's prying eyes. I'm sure every move I made was reported back to him. And I couldn't make her my last stop because it might've looked just as bad.

The door was open when I arrived. Her maids were there and assessing from the amounts of fabric, shiny bits and feathers all over the place they too had been hard at work on her costume. I had barely gotten a word in edgewise when another photographer asked for a picture. This time though, I was the one to bridge the gap.

Standing right behind America and posing with a few sketches in hand in front of us, I settled my free hand low on her waist. Again, so natural and so right. I refrained from my own urge to have her closer, to drop a kiss on her swan like neck. Every little step I took was captured, consumed and dissected for the gossip mongers. I had to play my cards right. After all, father was watching.

After a few pictures we realized we were alone. Everyone had scattered, including her maids. I wanted a kiss like the one we'd lost ourselves into but I didn't want America to feel undue pressure. We had barely taken a new step in our relationship and she tended to be like a scared kitten prone to scurrying away from me.

"Your maids are quite talented," I nodded, looking through the sketches. "These are wonderful concepts."

Hearing America speak fondly of her maids made me glad. Perhaps they would prove a strong motivator and my allies. Together we might be able to convince her she could be the next princess.

"Have you settled on one yet?" I asked, fanning out the papers on her desk.

"We're all fond of the bird idea. I think it's meant to be a reference to my necklace."

When I mentioned Celeste's costume being of a similar theme, the smile she'd been wearing, faltered a bit. "Wait. You were with Celeste?"

I nodded, amending, "Just a quick chat." I really hadn't been there long but I felt America's displeasure nonetheless. Or perhaps those were my own feelings of guilt about Celeste's flirting pricking my conscience. I needed to divert the discomfort I was feeling.

"I'm afraid I can't stay long here, either. Father's not thrilled about all this, but with the Selection still going on, he understood that it would be nice to have some more festivities. And he agreed it would be a much better way to meet the families, all things considered."

"Like what?"

"He's eager for an elimination, and I'm supposed to do one after I meet with everyone's parents. The sooner they come, the better in his eyes."

I could sense a shift in the room, between us. But I was still so new to this. I should've picked up on the signs. Yet after our conversation last night, I didn't feel there was any need for her to worry. Her place was secure.

"I suppose I ought to finish my rounds." I had to make sure to stop in and visit with Natalie and Marlee; to make sure things looked... fair.

"You're leaving already?"

"Not to worry, darling. I'll see you at dinner."

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Of course." I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to run. We'll talk again soon," and turned to leave.

What the hell, you ask, was I thinking? A kiss on the cheek, Maxon? I should've kissed her properly; thoroughly; the way I had kissed her last night. It had been a lost opportunity to reassure her but with my father's demands now resting heavy on my shoulders, I fumbled the ball.

* * *

With the Halloween party now eight days away the palace was in full prep mode for the festivities. And I had to make sure that to all who were watching, my father especially, I was doing my due diligence in spending "quality" time with the Selected girls. So, I simply put my mind to the task.

"Weigh all of your prospects, Maxon," my father made sure to remind me. Often.

So, on Monday, I had arranged time with Celeste who mentioned, she was glad to skip taking part in the menu tasting for the Halloween party with my mother to spend time alone. I think any of the other girls would've been embarrassed to admit that. Not Celeste. There were little to no reservations in her world. And true to her nature, just like a peacock, she definitely didn't lack in the confidence department.

Her room was definitely her; worldly and sophisticated with a white fur carpet on the floor edging the queen sized bed dressed in white silk sheets. A stack of popular magazines rested on her night table next to her bed. Sheer curtains draping the double doors of the balcony billowed against the morning air and adjacent to that was a loveseat perfect for two where we sat to chat. A tea service and a silver platter with buttery croissants alongside small jars of jams, a bowl of fresh berries and side plates of smoky ham and bacon lay on the low table for us to enjoy.

Celeste waived her maids away. There certainly wasn't the warmth here that America shared with her maids. I took note of that.

Conversation flowed easily between us. She told me about her modeling career and the many places she'd visited. A few paintings of those very places now hung on the bedroom walls. "That one is my favorite... Paris," she pointed, hooking her arm with mine. "You have spent time there, correct?" she smiled coyly.

"I have. The French are one of Illea's closest allies." I still hoped anyway. Daphne and I hadn't parted on the best of terms and she would eventually ascend to the throne of France just as I one day would to mine.

"It's so romantic," she snuggled closer. "And I hear it's the perfect spot for a honeymoon."

I gave her a crooked smile, heat crawling up my neck. No, not a shy bone. "Indeed."

Tuesday came about and I reserved that morning to give Kriss an archery lesson in the gardens. She was pleasant and lively and loved to laugh.

"Oh! I am horendous at this!" she cried through a little fit of giggles as her arrow veered left, completely missing the target. "I'm completely hopeless! I couldn't hit the target to save my life!"

Kriss made me laugh. I found her delightful and agreeable. And sweet. Very sweet. And quite pretty but in comparison to America, she just didn't trigger those sort of feelings in me.

Guests began arriving on Wednesday but I was absent from many of the scheduled meals. Marlee and I had gone horseback riding heading out early and returning after lunch. I was surprised to see what an accomplished rider she was.

"I've taken riding lessons since I was four," she mentioned as we guided our horses to the open field followed by about a half dozen palace guards. But regardless of the extra sets of eyes we enjoyed ourselves and the nice picnic lunch Cook had prepared for us.

That evening Natalie and I had a private dinner in her room.

I was truly hoping my father was watching, seeing how seriously I was taking this because when I made the announcement that I had chosen the future princess of Illéa, my wife to be, I wished there to be no doubt.

It was Elise's turn on Thursday and it was by far the most painful of the dates I had experienced. She wasn't a great conversationalist and had a propensity to agree on every subject matter I raised... even when I challenged her for an opinion she acquiesced to my desires. I found it highly irritating. There was no real connection between us... on any level. She felt like a virtual stranger and I wished I could send her home next but I knew my father would highly object to that move and question my sanity since Elise's ties with New Asia were seen as an advantage and not a small one either.

After the _Report_ on Friday, I didn't visit America. I had been so busy during the week I needed to get my own costume in order. I had narrowed it down to a pirate's costume since Justin, one of our young butlers said that women found pirates quite irresistible... according to what he'd overheard in certain conversations anyway. I ventured to the library and was lucky enough to find some works on pirates, their history and such. Then with Justin's help we were able to put the pieces of my costume together. Fortunately, the items weren't difficult to come by– a pair of torn pants, a loose white shirt and vest and a black bandana completed the look.

"You may not wish to shave for the next few days, Your Highness. To add to the look, you know?" Justin suggested.

"Not a bad idea." I agreed.

I wondered what America might think of my costume. And I couldn't help imagining what she'd show up as.

Dance rehearsals were scheduled for Saturday afternoon and I wanted to make sure I attended if anything just to watch. My excuse to see America and maybe get a chance to talk to her. As I was headed there my father intercepted me. I groaned inside.

"A moment in my office, Maxon."

The man was like a damn pimple! Popping up whenever he wasn't wanted or expected. Worse, his presence permeated the very walls of the palace, tightening the shackles I had little choice but to live with. Every time I itched to go to America's room or pull her aside for some alone time, my father's silent hand rested on my shoulder, reminding me of my duty to my throne.

Another lecture. More reminders. I nodded and "Yes, sir'ed" my way through them all. However, what my father didn't realize is that there was nothing left to debate. America told me she wanted me. It's all the assurance I needed. And I wanted her.

End of story.

* * *

The day the families arrived the palace rippled with electric excitement. I smiled watching as mothers and fathers embraced their daughters, as siblings ran and hurtled towards each other. It was beautiful to see the love filling this large room.

With my heart in my throat I headed towards the Singer's which was the first family I aimed to meet. These would be my future in-laws and I wished to make the best impression possible. We exchanged greetings and some lighthearted banter and I even thanked her little sister May, for winning me my first date with America.

When I left the company of the Singer's I felt pretty good. I had plans later on to speak with Mr. Singer about my intentions towards America. I wasn't leaving anything up to chance.

Before taking my leave after having greeted all, I bounded up the steps of the Great Room. My eyes settled on all the Selected and their families before me. "I want to thank you again for coming. We're so pleased to have you at the palace, not only to celebrate the first Halloween in Illéa in decades, but so that we can get to know all of you..." My welcome speech was short and to the point. There was still much for everyone to do before the celebration tomorrow night. Excitement thrummed in the air joining with my own.

This Selection was soon to end.

That evening I couldn't sleep. My conversation earlier in the gardens with Shalom Singer, America's father, played in an unending loop in my head. I had made my intentions clear to him; that America would be my choice. When he asked me why America, I didn't hesitate. "Because, sir, my affections for America are genuine. I have grown to care for her deeply. And," I paused, gathering myself, "I would confess that I do find myself quite in love with her."

He paused, his eyes deep in thought. When he looked at me he'd given me a simple nod. "To be honest, Your Highness, I was not expecting such a declaration. I have had my reservations about this entire situation but where America is concerned, it is her happiness that matters most to me. Whether she accepts you...this life, it will be her choice but, I trust that if you love my daughter as you say you do, you will promise to care for her, always."

"I do, sir."

"It was all I needed to know," he'd said, landing a hearty hand on my back. And when he put his arm around my shoulder in a warm father-like embrace I got a taste of what the Singer's shared that was so special. And I wanted to be a part of that.

Unfortunately, we would never get the chance.

I opened the door to the princess suite which was adjacent to mine. I had stared at that door every night from my bed since this Selection began trying to imagine which girl would come walking through there. Now there was only America I envisioned.

I flicked on the light, stepping further into the room. It was bare for the most part save a four-poster bed, a bureau and a writing desk.

My attention turned to the empty bed. Images of America occupying this room, sleeping here this close, consumed me. I could see her sitting at the vanity undoing the pins of her hair, her scent of vanilla and spice filling this room. A thrilling warmth spread to my groin envisioning dainty, feminine undergarments and silk nightgowns draping the curvature of her breasts and hips. I imagined myself curling a finger under the strap of her garment, pushing it down the curve of her shoulder, kissing her there; trailing my mouth over the ridge of her collarbone; my hands on forbidden places. I determined right then that she wouldn't be sleeping in this room much after all. Once we were married the only bed she'd occupy would be mine. Every night.

I heard myself groan, the tightness in my trousers portuding like a mountain peak. I was sporting a full hard on. Cupping my erection, squeezing along my length in hopes to alleviate a bit of the growing pangs of need, I growled. They were increasingly becoming more regular and quite intense. I had become very well adept to cold showers in the middle of the night.

Very soon, I consoled both myself and my dick, we'd be living out these fantasies. America would come to me. I'd hold her body to mine, skin to skin, kissing her and tasting her without restrictions. She'd be free to touch me as she wanted too...

Damn. I turned from her room, shutting the lights and headed straight for my shower.

I braced both hands against the tiled wall, the cold water from the shower head rained over my body, calming the raging fire in me to smoldering embers. Things were getting tough and I contemplated as I stood there more than once, the physical sign of my desire slowly ebbing, paying that visit to Dr. Ashlar.

Turning the shower off, I yanked a towel off the shelf and dried off, wrapping it tight around my waist.

America was the only thing I could think about. I had gone as far as getting special permission for a private proposal and I prayed as I finally settled into bed that she wouldn't back out on me. That she truly loved me and no matter what kept scaring her away, she'd trust that we could face it together.

* * *

 ** _🕷🕸 ~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN! ~🕸🕷_**

My parents and I stood outside the Great Room waiting for our entrance to be announced any moment now. I could hear the lively band playing popular music and the laughter of people from the other side of the closed doors. My palms felt sweaty and I stretched my neck from side to side trying to ease the tension there.

My father of course noticed. "Get a hold of yourself, Maxon. Confidence, son. Don't show them anything less." It wasn't encouragement he offered but a reprimand, reminding me who I was.

"It will be a wonderful party, Maxon," my mother said kindly, looking at me. She looked beautiful as always in a midnight blue dress dotted with glittering jewels. "And you make quite a handsome pirate," she smiled.

My father harrumphed. Of course he would. He didn't care much for my choice seeing he kept his costume rather... diplomatic. He was dressed as a king, big surprise there... but from another country. Quite original. Not.

"Ladies of the Selection, gentlemen of the guard, and friends and relatives of the royal family, please welcome King Clarkson, Queen Amberly and Prince Maxon Schreave!" The booming voice of the DJ introduced us as we stepped into the Great Room to the clicking sounds and flashing lights of cameras; to every eye on us. The band swelled with music and everyone curtsied and bowed.

I couldn't help the smile on my face as I took in the transformation of the Great Room. Everything had a touch of gold giving a truly magical sense of autumn. Elegance was in each detail. Sylvia had definitely outdone herself. And there was one person I hoped felt as awed as I did. Because all of it was for her.

Guests were asked to clear the floor, and my parents had the first dance together. I stood to one side along with Kriss and Natalie. Kriss laughed when I whispered teasingly, "I feel underdressed for the occasion." And Natalie also laughed when I joked that "I didn't get the memo about this being a Halloween party!"

That was enough of that. I did a sweep of the room looking for the one girl I wanted to spend all evening with. And there she was, standing across the room, beautiful and radiant as a morning star. I willed her to look but she was busy fluffing her dress and then stared at my parents dancing. I wondered what she was thinking. They looked so happy and well-suited for each other. My mother being the quiet to my father's storm.

I watched America as her eyes scanned the crowd. I hoped for me. But she seemed to be looking for someone else. Well, there were lots of people here.

Once my parent's finished, guests crowded the dance floor. Guards quickly paired up with girls. I watched like a hawk if anyone would ask America to dance but she moved and I lost her in the crowd. Damn. Natalie swayed to the sound of the music so I turned to her, "Would you like to dance?" Just as America approached but she breezed right by not even making eye contact. Oh shit. Did I screw up again?

I danced with Natalie for two songs straight. Then I was corralled by one of Natalie's sisters. Before I knew it a handful of songs had played when I took my mother out on the dance floor. Not long into the dance that's when I noticed an officer approach America and after bowing extended his hand. She took it eagerly and I felt a twinge in my chest. He led them to the dance floor and I was damn glad it wasn't a slow dance. My brow crinkled as she made him laugh. What did she say? They seemed to be easy with conversation and he looked at her with a look of reverent awe. What the hell?

"Maxon? Are you okay?" I vaguely heard my mother's words before she added, "Oh... I see. Well, she is quite stunning."

"She is."

"The mask does add to her intrigue, doesn't it?"

I frowned at my mother for that comment. Did the woman not realize it wasn't smart to goad a raging bull? Because actually seeing America with someone else was fucking with my mind. Big time. I was surprised by the uneasiness I felt. I was short of two seconds away from kicking someone's ass.

"Don't worry," laughed my mother, amusement sparking her eyes. "You'll get your turn soon enough. Enjoy yourself. Besides, what girl wouldn't want to be whisked away by a handsome pirate lord."

I gave my mother a smile though inside I was all a jumble. Nevertheless I took my mother's advice.

Dancing with Elise next I put on my best happy face. After all, I didn't want to ruin anyone else's fun. Besides my mother was right. I would get my turn with America which tempered the tumult inside of me. And Elise was a pretty good dancer. It was the loosest I'd ever seen her interact with me. She was actually pleasant tonight. So, we danced again laughter between us as we spun about in circles.

The calm didn't last for long when I saw America dancing with another guard. This one, tall, a head of dark hair and quite the perfect specimen of a palace guard. His uniform only added to his obvious rakishness. I couldn't help craning my neck, not wanting to lose them in the crowd as I partnered Kriss but there were too many bodies between us and although I couldn't tell what they spoke about, they looked like they were carrying on quite well. I couldn't wait for this dance to end! Sorry, Kriss.

I had promised my father I'd be fair and thorough but this was slow torture. America once again was whisked off by another officer who'd swept her away from tall and rakish.

By the time I had dotted all my I's and crossed every damn T in the room, I made like an arrow straight to America who was sitting down, resting.

"My lady?" I said, and when those blue eyes looked up at me behind that mask, my heart was in my throat and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. A week had gone by since I'd held her close. It was close to feeling like death. "May I have this dance?"

"Of course."

Unbelievable relief spread through me. Leading her to the dance floor triggered and array of feelings I hadn't felt all night long. I couldn't help the happiness flooding inside. Her hand in mine soothed me and the touch alone made me forget the jealousy I'd felt earlier. Call me insecure but I needed to touch her, for her hands to touch me to make sure she was real. Thankful that a slow song was starting, I pulled her to me, close enough that my stubble brushed against her cheek. Yes, this was it. Definitely... it.

"I was wondering if I was going to get a dance at all."

Pulling her even closer, my hand on the small of her back, I said, "I was saving this one. I've put in time with all the other girls, so my obligations are over. Now I can enjoy the rest of the evening with you."

She blushed beautifully and I wished I'd had my camera at that very moment to capture that reaction. No, she wasn't an obligation to me. She was the reason we were here. She was the future I held in my arms. I would at last declare myself to her. Let her know without uncertainty that everything I did from this moment forward would be for us.

"You look lovely, America. Much too beautiful," I grinned, appreciatively taking in the tapered bodice of her butterfly costume, "to be on the arm of a scraggly pirate."

She giggled. "How could you have possible dressed to match? Come as a tree?" she teased.

"At the very least, some kind of shrubbery." I retorted.

At that she laughed again. "I would pay money to see you dressed as a shrubbery!"

"Next year," I promised.

Her eyes went wide. The question hanging between us.

"Would you like that? For us to have another Halloween party next October?" I hoped she realized what I was asking.

"Will I even be here next October?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and along with that a hole opened in my chest. "Why wouldn't you?"

She shrugged. "You've been avoiding me all week, dating the other girls. And... I saw you talking to my dad. I thought you might be telling him why you had to kick out his daughter." She choked up.

"America."

"I get it. Someone has to go, and I'm a Five, and Marlee's the people's favorite–"

"America, stop." I said gently. "I'm such an idiot. I had no idea you'd see it that way. I thought you felt secure in your standing."

Apparently I had done a very poor job at making her feel so. I sighed.

I stared into her eyes deeply, not caring who was watching. "Honestly? I was trying to give the other girls a sporting chance." Honestly, I hadn't realized that's what I'd been doing. Yes, I clinically weighed my options just as my father wanted, but had I been honest with myself, subconsciously I was still looking for a plan B; a backup.

"From the beginning, I've really only looked at you, wanted you." She ducked her head, perhaps embarrassed by how intently I was looking at her but I didn't want any misunderstanding to linger between us. "When you told me how you felt," I continued, "I was so relieved that a part of me didn't believe it. I still have a hard time accepting that it was real. You'd be surprised how infrequently I get something I truly want."

"I was afraid I was wrong, that you'd change your mind any second. I've been looking for a suitable alternative, but the truth is..." I tipped her chin, my eyes now set on hers, "there's only you," I confessed. Damn, I sounded and felt like such an asshole. I had to fix this quick. "Maybe I'm not really looking, maybe they aren't right for me. It doesn't matter. I just know I want you. And that terrifies me. I've been waiting for you to take back the words, to beg to leave." I guess in our own ways we were both afraid.

America inhaled a breath and slowly released it. The exhalation brushed against my cheek. "Maxon, that's not going to happen," she whispered into my neck, sending rivulets of shivers down my spine. "If anything you're going to realize I'm not good enough."

My lips at her ear said, "Darling, you're perfect."

This time she pulled me closer and I did the same, our bodies pressed together as we'd never physically been before. And once more, I didn't give a rat's ass as to who was watching and that included my father who I was sure was somewhere seething while I imagined my mother smiling from ear to ear.

America pulled back to look at me and the telling stain of tears were there. My heart burst... with love.

"I want us to take our time. After I announce the dismissal tomorrow, that will appease the public and my father, but I don't want to rush you at all. I want you to see the princess's suite. It adjoins to mine, actually," I said quietly, that rush of desire flooding my body. Parts of me, that lower region in particular, sprang awake, as the thoughts I'd entertained last night burst forth with colorful imagery and vivid detail. There was a primal urge to get closer to her, to feel that secret place made just for me.

"I think you should start deciding what you want in there. I want you to feel completely at home. You'll have to pick a few more maids, too, and figure out if you want your family in the palace or just nearby. I'll help you with everything.

"Soon, when it's proper for me to end the Selection, when I propose to you, I want it to be as easy as breathing for you to say yes. I promise to do everything in my power between now and that moment to make it that way. Anything you need, anything you want, say the words. I will do everything I can for you."

I could sense she was overwhelmed but I had made my decision. I was all in. This amazing girl was going to be my wife.

"That's not fair, Maxon," she mumbled. "What in the world am I supposed to be able to give you?"

I smiled. "All I want is your promise to stay with me, to be mine. Sometimes it feels like you can't possibly be real." I smiled down at her. Then whispered, "Promise me you'll stay."

"Of course. I promise."

The party went on late into the night when I dragged the six Selected to the balcony at the front of the palace to view the fireworks. I held a bottle of champagne in one hand, taking a swig and lifting it up as the fireworks lit up the sky, exclaimed, "A toast!"

The six Selected raised their glasses as I turned to them, "To all you beautiful ladies. And to my future wife!"

The girls cheered but that toast was meant for only one, my America.

Our eyes met knowingly. I gave her a little wink. _Soon, darling. Very soon you'll be my wife._

* * *

"I have to go..." America smiled at me as we lingered in one of the back hallways, taking a bit of cover next to large potted plant. I was holding on to her waist, attempting to steal yet another kiss. She giggled as I nipped her neck. "It's past 2 a.m., Maxon. I'm sure my maids are wondering where I am."

"Let them wonder all they want," I whispered, brushing her lips with my own. "I can't seem to let you go. Not tonight." I brushed my tongue against the seam of her mouth asking for entrance. She granted it and the kiss was potent and full of things I wanted. My hands traveled up her back into her hair and she moaned. My manhood swelled pushing furiously against the front of my tattered pants. I wanted us closer. Hell, I wanted us naked. But despite my raging hormones I managed to keep most of my senses. America's fingers dug into my waist and I groaned. That definitely was not helping.

"Maxon," she panted as my lips branded her throat.

I licked the line of her beautiful throat up to capture her lips once more. Her hands fanned across my chest her touch burning through the cotton fabric of my pirate's shirt.

I pulled back, taking her in. The sultry shade of smoky blue that glazed her eyes made my manhood buck. There was a calling there, the way she was looking at me; one that only I could answer. Our breaths were heavy and through some instinct driving me, took hold of her hips and pulled her flush to me. She gasped. There was no hiding my need.

We looked intently at each other as questions, dangerous questions hung like live wires between us.

"I better go," she whispered.

I nodded. This was even a worse sort of torture. "I'll walk you to your room."

"Mmmm... That may not be such a good idea." She paused.

"Halfway."

She smiled, "Halfway then."

It took us about another half an hour to make it to the second floor where just as we turned the corner to her room I pulled her in for yet another kiss. I had lost count by now how many this one made. America's hands slipped in my hair as we kissed– deeply.

I watched as she walked down the rest of the quiet hallway to her room where she waved her fingers, and mouthed, "Good night."

It had been a hell of a night, I beamed as I jogged to my room, feeling happier and so full of hope than I'd ever felt before. The girl I loved was mine. She was mine and she was going to be mine forever.

Sleep claimed me with a smile on my face.

Little did I know that in less than 24 hours, things were about to go to shit.

 _ **~ End of Part II ~**_

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